Harry Potter and the Polyjuice Disaster
by PadfootIsMyHomeDawg
Summary: Halloween, 1981. The Potters' burning house in Godric's Hollow is the reason for the chaos. But Remus Lupin is the dead man on the stairs, not James Potter. James and Remus had switched places for the night so that Lily wouldn't know he'd gone...but it was never supposed to end in death. Now he and Sirius are left to raise Harry alone. Will go through Harry's 1st year at Hogwarts.
1. Prologue

**And here is introducing "Harry Potter and the Polyjuice Disaster"! This is thanks to a prompt from FredNeverDied, so kudos to her! I won't be updating this one as frequently as Learning to Breathe, because right now the focus is on that one, but this is a little fic on the side to have some fun. (Not that LTB isn't fun...hehe...) **

**A few warnings (or, why it's rated T): Mostly it's due to language, but also: while it never goes into explicit sex, or anything of the sort, there is a Sirius/Remus relationship, so in later chapters, Sirius, being Sirius, will probably make blunt comments about sex and/or sex with Remus, but it shouldn't be too graphic...so, that's why it's staying at a T rating and not M. **

**Now that that's out of the way, hope you guys love!**

* * *

"Okay, no hints, no slip-ups – you have to be absolutely aware of who you are…or are, er, _not_, for the whole night. I don't want Lily skinning me alive when I come home."

Remus gave one of his best friends a small smile as he plucked a hair from his head with hardly a wince. "I know, Prongs, I know. I've had experience with polyjuice potion before, you know."

James sighed impatiently and dropped his own hair into the vial of potion in his hand. "I know. But it hasn't been around someone who's known you since you were _eleven_!"

Remus chuckled. "It'll only be for a few hours. Don't let Padfoot or Wormtail know you're me, either. Or…I'm you."

James nodded. "Yep. Got that down."

Remus grimaced as he looked down into the potion that would make him look like James Potter. "No matter how often I drink this stuff, it's awful every time."

"And you gotta drink it _every hour_ until I get back," James teased. Remus sighed in resignation, but still didn't down the vile potion.

"Come on, Moony," James said, holding out his own vial and clinking it with Remus' with a grin. "Bottoms up!"

* * *

"Hey, it's late guys," James said around eight-thirty that night as he dismounted his broom. "I should be getting back home."

"Sure, mate," Sirius said. "I'll come home with you, yeah?"

"You don't have to," James tried as Sirius walked over.

"But I want to, Moony," he whispered, rubbing a hand suggestively over James' arse. James practically jumped out of his shoes. He'd forgotten that part…

"You don't have to, really," he tried again as Sirius began to kiss his neck.

"I'll be heading home now, guys," Peter said loudly, as though trying to remind them that he was there.

"See you later, Wormtail," Sirius called back without pulling away from James. A moment later there was the quiet pop of disapparation.

"Padfoot, stop, please," James said in a strained voice. "I gotta tell you something…"

* * *

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off —"

A minute later, Remus Lupin dropped to the ground, eyes wide open as the black-cloaked figure stepped carelessly over his body to go up the stairs.

* * *

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl . . . stand aside, now. . . ."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead — not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy. . . ."

* * *

The pop of apparation was hardly heard on the strangely noisy street.

"…pressing _my_ lips to _your_ neck – grabbing _your _arse in _my _hand…" Sirius was ranting, but he stopped when he saw the street, and more importantly, what had once been James' house. The indignation immediately left his face to be replaced with horror.

"Oh, no," he breathed.

James began running forward. "No…no! Lily! Remus! _Harry!_"

* * *

Sirius trembled as James held Harry in his arms and sobbed over Lily's body in the other room. Harry's cries joined his own, though it was mostly out of confusion for the noise and the pain in his head. Remus' body, no longer looking like James, lied just feet outside the door. Sirius knelt next to him, tears streaming down his face in despair as he looked on his lover's blank amber-colored eyes.

"I'll kill him," Sirius croaked.

"What?" James rasped through his tears.

"Peter!" Sirius practically screamed. "I'll kill him! _He _did this! _He _betrayed us! _He's_ the reason they're…" A sob wrenched itself from his throat, but he stood up anyway and prepared to leave.

"No!" James ran from the room and grasped Sirius' arm before he could go. "_No_, Sirius! No one knows he was Secret Keeper!"

_"So what?!" _Sirius cried, wrenching his arm away. "Don't _you _want revenge, too?"

"Of _course _I do!" James said, grabbing his arm again. "But we need to talk to Dumbledore first. We need a plan."

* * *

Sirius approached Peter finally on a busy street. It had taken less than a day to find the cowardly bastard, and Sirius was out for revenge. He wanted the rat _dead _for what he'd done to his one love and his other best friend.

"Peter, you traitorous bastard!" Sirius shouted, getting Peter's attention, as well as that of several Muggles in the area.

Peter looked left and right before he turned to face Sirius fully as Sirius stormed toward him.

"James and Lily, Sirius!" he trilled in his high, annoying whine. "How _could _you?!"

Sirius stopped short. What on _Earth _was he talking about?

"You betrayed them! You _killed_ them! Why, Sirius?" Peter said in what could've passed as heartbroken desperation.

Sirius understood then. Peter of course didn't know that James and Remus had switched that night – they'd kept that information secret. And now Peter was trying to frame _him_.

"Haven't you heard, Wormtail?" Sirius called back. "James is _alive_! You killed _Remus_!"

Peter's eyes widened as he was in the act of pulling out his wand.

What came next happened in a blur. Peter chanted something, and Sirius recognized the spell and threw up his shield. A terrific blast overtook the street, and through the haze, Sirius saw Peter cut off his finger.

"No!" he shouted, even as he saw Peter transform into a rat and disappear into a hole in the ground along with the other rats. Pettigrew had escaped.

The smoke cleared as Aurors filled the street, revealing a massive crater in the ground and twelve Muggles lying dead around. People screamed and pointed to Sirius, the only one alive in the throng.

Sirius began laughing then. He couldn't help it. The one man they'd always underestimated had outsmarted them all.

Then someone was shaking his shoulders, trying to get his attention. Someone was shouting, but Sirius didn't hear over the roaring, pounding sound in his ears. Messy hair, glasses, wild hazel eyes blurred in front of him, shouting at him.

"He escaped," Sirius said hoarsely, and laughed again, throwing his head back as he shouted. "_The rat escaped!_"

* * *

A rat missing a single toe on his front paw ran up to the little boy with bright red hair. _Help me! _The rat thought mentally, panting wildly after his run.

The boy bent down and picked up the rat, and noticed the missing toe, still bleeding. "You're hurt!" he exclaimed in his childish voice. "Don't worry. I'll help you."

He quickly ran inside and held the rat up to his mum. "Mummy! Can I keep it?!"

* * *

James held Harry close to his chest as the child went back to sleep in the middle of the night. He sat in the rocking chair he'd saved from Godric's Hollow, rocking gently as he patted Harry's back, Harry's head resting on his shoulder. Sirius appeared in the doorway, looking sadly on the scene. Usually it was _Lily_ that got up for their son.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, though the traces of his own tears remained on his face.

James shook his head, fighting back tears once again. "You?" he croaked.

Sirius sighed and sank down on the chair across from James. He didn't answer, saying instead, "How did Harry survive?"

James shook his head, remembering when he'd seen the bloody lightning bolt on his son's head that would be sure to scar as he got older. "Dumbledore's looking into it. I think it was Lily's sacrifice, though. She was looking into protection charms in the months before…" he swallowed, unable to say more. But Sirius understood what he was trying to say. He always did.

"I'm sorry, Prongs," Sirius whispered sorrowfully. "If I hadn't suggested changing Secret Keepers…"

"We've already been over this, Sirius," James said more sharply than he'd intended. "If this is anyone's fault, it's mine. _I_ was the one who switched with Remus – that's the only reason _he's _dead right now."

"It's not your fault, James," Sirius insisted.

"Then it's not yours either."

* * *

A few days later the Wizarding World was still celebrating the fall of Voldemort as James and Sirius mourned the death of their two closest friends. The funeral was done – many had come – but still the pain resided in both their hearts.

Sirius was spoon-feeding Harry rice cereal in his high chair, and James had just gotten out of the shower. They were both living in Sirius' one-bedroom flat, though it probably wouldn't remain that way for long. Sirius and James had been sleeping in the same bed for the past few nights, which sometimes made for awkward situations when Sirius was sleeping and he subconsciously thought it was Remus and decided it was time to cuddle. James didn't give him too much grief for it, though he knew Sirius was a bit embarrassed by the situation and still heartbroken at Remus' sudden death. Harry had a crib on the other side of the room that he slept in. The room wasn't too small, but it was meant for only Sirius and Remus, so having three people living in it who weren't romantically involved made it cramped.

"We need to find another place, Prongs," Sirius said when James walked in. Though his back was to James, he had heard him come in and said the thing that he was thinking about for a while over the past couple of days.

"No, it's alright," James said quickly. "I have money in my vaults that I can get a flat for me and Harry…"

"James, you better not say what I think you're going to say, because if you're going to say what I think you are then _we_ are going to have a problem." As he spoke, he scraped some of the rice cereal off of Harry's chin with the edge of the spoon and tried to put it in the drooling Harry's mouth again.

"So, we're in this together, then?" James said after a moment.

"Damn straight we are."

* * *

**And there's the first chapter! **

**Also, something that would be great for you guys to help me with: for the next couple of chapters, I want to get some scenes of Harry growing up under Sirius and James' care, but I need IDEAS! I'm looking for all sorts of scenes, from fluffy, happy pieces to sad pieces and even to ones where Harry disobeys and needs reprimanding/punishment. Give me as many as you can think of! I'm trying to get the characters' development out there before I go into Harry being at school. **

**Also, I'm thinking I want Harry to make a friend before school, whether they be Muggle or wizard/witch. I don't really want an OC, but some ideas for who to use would be great...maybe Hermione or Ron, but perhaps Neville would be the better choice, considering how Sirius knew the Longbottoms...I dunno. You tell me!**

**Cheers! :)**


	2. Chapter 1

**Hello! So, as I said in the prologue, the first couple-to-few chapters will be little snapshots of Harry growing up. Thank you to all those of you who offered suggestions to what I should do, and I'm still accepting more! So far all I have written is up till Harry is six (though of course I didn't put that in here, because I want an average chapter size and to put in what chapter all that I already have down would be crazy, although this will probably be on the long side of chapters anyway...), and I'd like to get up until probably the night before he leaves to go to Hogwarts before going on with his first year. So...if you have any ideas for a child-not-toddler Harry, let me know!**

**Oh! Almost forgot...I know some people are squeamish about spanking, but I decided after the last chapter that I would have a bit of disciplinary spanking for Harry, though mainly when he's younger. There definitely won't be a lot of scenes with spanking, because that isn't what this fic is focused on and it really doesn't call for it, but there will be a few mentions of it and perhaps more in the future. ...Not totally sure how much yet, to be honest, but THAT'S NOT WHAT THIS STORY IS ABOUT, so maybe only a couple of times. **

**So, basically what I'm trying to say is that if you hate that kind of stuff, TURN BACK NOW! (And sorry for not warning you sooner...)**

**K, and now for the rest of you still reading...enjoy! :)**

* * *

"Calm down, Padfoot. He has a right to see her – she _is _Lily's sister, you know."

Sirius grumbled to himself as they walked down Magnolia Crescent, James holding a babbling Harry in his arms.

"Lily and Petunia haven't talked in _years_," he pointed out. "Lily said that Petunia pretends that she doesn't even _have_ a sister, because she's a witch."

"I know what Lily said, Sirius," James sighed. "I was there, too. But Petunia probably doesn't even know that Lily is dead – it's only been a couple of weeks, and…well, like you said, she pretends she doesn't have a sister, so maybe no one sent her a letter or something. And Harry _is _her nephew, and she has a son a couple of months older than Harry."

At the sound of his name, Harry squealed and clapped his hands. "Walk!" he demanded, pushing on James' chest as though to get out of his grasp. "_Walk!_"

James shook his head. "No walk, Snitchy," he told the child with a fond smile. "We still have a little ways to go – it's a bit too far for your legs."

"_Walk!_" Harry demanded with a frown. James shook his head, not saying anything, and Harry pouted before turning in James' arms to Sirius. He stretched out his hands, opening and closing his hands into fists several times.

"Pa'foo!" he demanded. Sirius' scowl broke into a slight smile and James passed Harry over to his godfather. However, once Harry was in Sirius' arms, he pushed at Sirius' chest.

"Walk!" he exclaimed, wiggling his legs. Sirius blinked at him in astonishment for a moment before chuckling a bit.

"We just got played, Prongs," he informed his friend, even as he set Harry down on the ground, still keeping hold of his hand. They began to walk slower to accommodate Harry's slower pace.

James shook his head amusedly. "You're going to spoil him rotten, Pads."

Sirius chuckled again and said, "It's not _my _fault we've got a manipulative little Slytherin on our hands." They both looked down to Harry, who was focused on the ground and very concentrated on his walking so as not to fall down. Both of them had fond smiles on their faces as they watched the black-haired little boy.

Sirius looked up and sighed as they turned onto Privet Drive, going back to their original argument. "This isn't going to make any difference, Prongs – you just watch."

"Number Four, right?" James said, ignoring Sirius' previous comment. Sirius sighed and nodded, picking up Harry and swinging him onto his hip as they approached said house. Harry made a noise of dissatisfaction as he was stopped from walking, but it seemed halfhearted as he leaned his head tiredly on his godfather's shoulder.

They walked up the walkway with slightly wrinkled noses – it was much too pristine, for their tastes. They pushed onward however, though Sirius walked as though walking to his imminent death. James rapped on the door with his knuckles, and they waited a moment before a blond, horse-faced woman answered the door. For a moment they thought they'd got the wrong house – she looked nothing like Lily.

But then her eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of the three of them, recognizing James apparently from pictures Lily'd had in school.

"What do you want?" she demanded harshly.

James blinked in slight surprise before recovering himself and saying, "Petunia Ev – Dursley? May we come in?"

Petunia glared further before wordlessly stepping aside, glancing around outside as she did so as though to make sure that no one had seen – not that the neighbors would've suspected anything, as James and Sirius had purposely dressed in Muggle attire. James walked inside with a gracious "thank you", ignoring Sirius' I-told-you-so expression on his face.

A few moments later, James and Sirius were seated next to each other on the sofa, watching as Petunia's large son – wasn't he only a month or so older than Harry? He shouldn't be _that _big before he was even a year and a half old – banged his toy fire truck repeatedly on the ground. Petunia sat down across from them, and both men noticed that she hadn't offered anything. Not that they would've accepted, but it was the thought that counted.

"Well?" she demanded before they could even open their mouths. "What is it, then?"

"Petunia," James said as patiently as he could muster, "Have you heard from Lily lately?"

Petunia snorted. "Of course not."

Not quite sure what to make of that, James nevertheless pressed on in a slightly choked-up voice. "Well…we came to say that…a couple of weeks ago she was killed."

Petunia didn't even blink, though her glare intensified. "I _know _that," she said shortly. "That crackpot Dumbledore sent me a letter two weeks ago!"

Even Sirius was stunned at this. Petunia didn't even look sad at her only sister's demise. She still looked annoyed that they were sitting in her living room, and nothing else.

"We had the funeral on Sunday," James said in a carefully controlled voice. "When you weren't there I thought you hadn't heard."

Petunia scoffed. "Of course I heard, but I had a Garden Club meeting at the same time and I couldn't make it."

Sirius' jaw actually _dropped_. He was absolutely speechless. Petunia's _only _sister had _died_, and she had not only missed the funeral, but she had missed it because of a petty _Garden Club meeting_. She didn't even show remorse for the loss, either.

In a deadly calm voice, James said, "You missed your sister's funeral…for a _women's gossip _time, under the guise of vegetation discussions?" It was more of a statement the way he said it, though.

Petunia sniffed unrepentantly. "It was a previous engagement that I couldn't get out of."

"Petunia, your sister is a _hero_," Sirius said ferociously, finally finding his voice. "It is because of her, and of one of our best friends, that _he_"—he pointed to Harry, who was toddling over to the pile of toys surrounding the fat child, Dudley—"is even _alive _right now. It is because of _them_ that the War has ended, and saved countless lives in the process."

Petunia scoffed. "If she hadn't consorted with you _freaks_ in the first place," she said with a sneer, "She wouldn't have been able to have gone and gotten herself _killed_."

James and Sirius both flinched at the last word, though they were still growing furious.

"If she hadn't sacrificed _herself_," James said, "_You _would be dead by now. The War wasn't focused only on witches and wizards – it would've gone to Muggles like you in _no_ time. So don't you _dare _try and blame this all on Lily."

"How dare _I_?" Petunia almost screeched. "Just _who _do you think you are, walking into _my _house, ordering _me _around, telling _me _how _I _should feel?! I don't _care _– "

She was cut off by a loud wail coming from the direction of Harry and Dudley, and they all looked over to see the fat boy lying on his back, screaming like a banshee while Harry stared with huge emerald eyes, lip quivering and eyes welling up with tears. Clenched in his hand was a small red Hot Wheels car, and there was a red mark on his arm that looked suspiciously like a handprint. On Dudley's face was a small cut, perhaps the size of a paper cut, though by the way he was wailing, one would've thought someone had slashed him across the face with a cutting hex.

Petunia immediately rushed over and gathered her son up in her arms, even as the boy wiggled around as though trying to get away. Still holding Dudley, she reached over and snatched the car from Harry's grasp, slapping at his hand.

"Horrible boy!" she scolded. "You stay away from my Dudders, if you know what's good for you! Stealing his toys – shame on you!"

At the loss of his toy, and the slap and harsh words from his aunt, Harry began to cry, though definitely not as loud as his cousin. He was confused to what was going on – all he'd ever known was kindness and love from his parents, godfather, and surrogate uncles (though one of said "uncles" no longer deserved the title). He didn't understand her harsh words or actions.

And then James and Sirius were there, the latter gathering up his godson in his arms and patting his back to soothe him. James had his wand out, and he was even more furious than before.

"How _dare _you," he said in a quietly infuriated voice. "How _dare _you harm my son in _any_ way?! Your son is a spoiled _brat_, and you have _no _right to interfere where _my _son is concerned!"

Without saying another word, James and Sirius turned and walked out the front door, as Petunia screeched behind them and comforted her son at the same time. Both men were scowling, Sirius still patting the sniffling Harry's back, and had to restrain themselves with great effort from hexing Petunia Dursley into oblivion. They were silent however, all the way back down Privet Drive.

As they reached Magnolia Crescent, Harry had long since stopped crying, though Sirius, with his heightened hearing (being a dog Animagus, of course) could still hear the fat little menace bawling back in Number Four.

Sirius looked at James and asked, "You think Frank and Alice will have us over for dinner?"

James nodded. "Probably. They're still grateful we were there when the Death Eaters came last week, I think. Don't know _what _would've happened otherwise…anyway, they'll probably also appreciate some company for Neville, and after Harry's time with The Fat One, he'll be grateful too, even if he can't say so."

Sirius shuddered. "I never want to go back to that despicable woman _ever _again."

James nodded firmly in agreement. "Me neither."

* * *

Little feet pitter-pattered on the wood floor as they ran as fast as they could, which wasn't much more than a toddle. A giggle escaped the dark-haired boy's mouth as he rounded the kitchen table, and then squatted down to hide behind a chair. He gripped the chair legs and peered through them at the much larger feet on the other side. His diaper sagged so low on his bottom that it was touching the floor, but Harry of course, didn't care. Two-year-olds never did.

"Hm…where's my Harry?" the man said in theatrical bewilderment, and Harry giggled again. "Padfoot, come help me find Harry! He's _lost_!"

"Oh, _no_!" Padfoot's voice came from the other room. "Wherever could he _be_? I'll help you! Puppy!" he called for Harry, and Harry giggled again as another set of shoes joined that of his father's. "Where _are _you? We need to get your nappie changed and get some clothes on you, Pup!"

"Hey, Padfoot!" James said in a stage whisper. "I wonder if the Tickle Monsters will have better luck finding him?"

"Hm…" Sirius pretended to think it over. "I think you're right, Prongs. It's worth a shot, anyway!"

Harry giggled again, and Sirius said loudly, "Hey! I think I heard him! Do you think he's in here?"

"It's a very real possibility," James said solemnly. "Har-ry!" he called, and Sirius began walking around the table. Harry followed Sirius' feet with his eyes, so that was why he didn't see James coming from the other direction. As Sirius began to round one corner of the table, Harry began walking backwards on unsteady feet. As Sirius rounded the last corner and came into Harry's view, Harry squealed and turned to run away.

He ran straight into James' ready arms, whereby he immediately began tickling the helpless child. Harry laughed loudly and wriggled to get away, but James' grip didn't falter. Soon Sirius joined them, and both tickled the child mercilessly as he kicked and wiggled to get away from the tickling hands, laughing uproariously all the while.

Finally the two of them stopped, leaving a breathless little boy lying on his back on the ground. He sat up and scooted backwards a little as though to get away from them, and adopted a stern expression on his jolly face.

"Bad Dada," he stated, even as his eyes still danced with laughter. "Bad Pa'foot. _No._"

Sirius and James raised eyebrows at each other, fighting to keep the amused smiles off their faces. The same thought was going through their minds – _Lily, much?_

James turned back to his son and said in mock horror, "Oh, _no_! He doesn't know the difference between Daddy and Padfoot, and the Tickling Monster Duo! Should we show him, Mr. Padfoot?"

"I believe we should, Mr. Prongs," Sirius said with a grave nod.

"No!" Harry squealed. "No Tickle Mon'ters!"

But seconds later he was under their tickling hands again, laughing wildly and wiggling in vain to get away.

* * *

"Now, Harry. This is very important, and you must listen _very _carefully. Take this water – that's it – hold it tightly, now! – and you have to be _very _quiet when you walk in. I'm talking as silent as a jobberknoll."

"What's a jobberknoll?" Harry asked loudly, clutching the glass of water tightly in his small hands.

"_Ssh!_" James quickly shushed him. "It's this small blue bird that…well, it's silent. Not important. But if you're too loud, Padfoot will wake up and the prank will be ruined."

"Ohh," Harry nodded solemnly, and spoke in a whisper. "I be quiet, Daddy."

James nodded proudly and patted the three-year-old's head. "Good boy."

He reached out and grasped the doorknob to Sirius' bedroom, turning it slowly and as silently as he could. He gently guided Harry inside with a hand to his back, following after and leaving the door open. As Harry walked, a bit of water sloshed over the edges of his glass.

"Steady now, Prongslet," he said softly as their target snored on his bed. Sirius' mouth hung open, his arms and legs thrown carelessly about as though he was a rag doll. A small bit of drool escaped his mouth.

Harry walked carefully and slowly over to the bed, his socked feet making hardly a sound on the wood flooring. He looked up at James as though for reassurance, and James gave him an encouraging nod and a grin. Harry looked back down at the water glass, then Sirius' snoring, peaceful expression, and without another thought, lifted the glass of water and dumped it over his face.

He jumped back with wide eyes as Sirius shot up in bed with a "What the – _Prongs!_"

Harry began giggling as Sirius swiped out blindly at James, and James simply laughed and held up his hands.

"It wasn't me!" he insisted. "It was Harry!"

Sirius stopped his swiping abruptly and blinked down at Harry, as though suddenly realizing that he was there. Harry stopped laughing and looked at Sirius with huge emerald eyes, awaiting his anger at what he'd done.

But after a moment or two with James still chuckling in the background, Sirius' eyes crinkled and he grinned widely at the boy, reaching down to pick him up and swing him onto the bed.

"Our little Marauder!" he said proudly, wiping at fake tears – or possibly the water dripping from his face. "Oh, I'm so proud! His first prank, Prongs! We need a picture."

"Already got one," James chuckled, picking up the camera from where he'd set it on the bedside table, away from the water. "I caught the whole thing, from the sleeping to the shooting up in bed."

"Oh, _Puppy_!" Sirius exclaimed, hugging Harry tightly to his chest. "This calls for celebration! What do ya want? Ice cream? Chocolate Frogs? Sugar Quills?"

"_All_ of them!" Harry said after a moment of contemplation, spreading his arms wide as though to express the enormity of his decision. He wasn't quite sure _what _they were celebrating, but he wasn't about to protest the chance for more sugar.

"'All of them', he says!" Sirius said importantly to James. "The lad shall receive all, Mr. Prongs! What say you?"

"Mr. Prongs would have to agree with the Prongslet's wise choice," James agreed in the same voice Sirius used. "And Mr. Prongs votes to second Mr. Padfoot's motion; all those in favor say 'aye'."

And although it wasn't needed, all three of them chorused with exuberant "ayes".

* * *

The entire house was silent. The moon shone brightly outside, just another night away until it was full. It was the kind of silence that comes right before chaos reigns, like the eye of a hurricane – dead, almost loud in its quiet.

Then someone let out a snort in his sleep, and sighs as he snuggles deeper into his cocoon of pillows, and the silence is broken for a moment before coming back.

The little four-year-old struggled in silence, wiggling and thrashing in bed. He shook his head, eyes scrunched shut, in the throes of a nightmare. The only sound was the sheets moving against each other, which was gradually growing louder, though not enough to wake anyone – least of all himself.

He threw out a hand in his sleep, and suddenly the lamp on his bedside table shattered into millions of tiny pieces and shards. He tossed his head to the side, and a picture frame came crashing down from his wall, the glass inside cracking, breaking long lines diagonally through it.

James Potter and Sirius Black both shot up in their beds in different rooms at the sound, their thoughts both immediately going to Harry. They ran from their rooms, both going to Harry's without a word to each other, and threw the door open, holding their wands aloft at the same time Sirius flicked on the light switch.

The worry that Harry was being attacked was immediately replaced with a different kind of worry as they saw the little boy tossing about in bed, eyes clenched shut and tears streaming down his cheeks. He arched his back at the same time all of the drawers in his dresser exploded outwards and slammed into the opposite wall right beside the door.

James immediately went to Harry's bed while Sirius went to the kitchen to get a glass of water for Harry. James took hold of Harry's shoulders as gently as he could and shook him a little to try and wake him up.

"Harry…" he said in a soft, soothing voice. "Come on, it's time to wake up now." Right after he said the words, Harry kicked in his sleep and his bookshelf fell forward, crushing many of the books.

"Come on, Harry, you can do it," James said, gently slapping the boy's too-warm cheeks to wake him up. Harry let out something that sounded like a choke and a sob, and the light bulbs in the ceiling fan suddenly blasted apart, shrouding the room in darkness once more.

At that moment, Harry's eyes shot open and he bolted up, eyes wide and fearful, not focused on anything. There was a loud _tink_,and a crack shot its way through the middle of the window before webbing outward. James sat down on the bed and continued speaking in soothing tones, holding onto Harry's shoulders to try and get him to focus.

"It's alright, Harry – just calm down now," James said gently, and the mirror on the back of Harry's door shattered. "Focus on my voice, Harry, alright? Breathe in…breathe out." Harry's eyes darted about the ruined room, which seemed to make him even more upset as the bedroom door slammed closed once again, causing a crack to appear on the door with the force of it. The bedside table tipped and tumbled to the ground with an almighty _crash_. James never tore his eyes away from his son's face. "Focus on _me_, Harry – nothing else. In…out. In…out. That's it, Snitchy. Just keep breathing. In…out. Okay? Everything's okay, Harry, just keep breathing. In…out."

Harry finally calmed down enough that his accidental magic had stopped its destruction of his room, though tears still flowed freely down his face. James gathered him in his arms without another word, cradling him close to his chest as tears seeped into his pajamas. Harry clutched handfuls of the fabric in his hands, white knuckled in his efforts as James rubbed a soothing hand over Harry's back.

"'m _sorry_, Daddy," Harry said, though his words were a bit muffled by James' chest. Sirius came in as he spoke, holding a glass of water and the entire jar of cookies. "I didn't mean to break all the stuff."

James simply hugged him closer to his chest and said, "I know, Snitchy, I know. It wasn't your fault. It was your accidental magic flaring up – it happens to everyone when they're young. Did you have a nightmare?"

Harry nodded miserably, more tears seeping out. "There was a guy laughing real' mean. And someone was screaming, and then it all turned green."

Sirius and James exchanged a quick glance at these words. They knew somehow instinctively that Harry was remembering that night – the Halloween where Voldemort attacked Godric's Hollow. They didn't quite know what to say – of course they weren't going to tell a four-year-old that his mother and mother's best friend had been murdered while trying to protect _him_, but what could they say?

"I'm sorry, Harry," James finally murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He didn't know what else to say.

Sirius sat at the foot of the bed and handed Harry the glass of water, half full so as not to spill. Harry pulled away from James and drank some of it before giving it back to Sirius, who set it on the floor as there was no bedside table to speak of at the moment.

"Am I in trouble?" Harry said in a trembling voice.

"Of course not," Sirius answered for James in a purposely light voice, sitting on the bed on the other side of Harry and opening up the jar of cookies. "Bad little boys don't get cookies…and am I not here, with the whole _jar _of cookies?"

Harry relaxed a little and took the proffered cookie from Sirius' hand, beginning to nibble on it as James said, "Like I said, everyone's accidental magic flares up when they're younger. That's why they go to schools – like Hogwarts – so that they can have better control over their magic. That's where you're going to go, too, when you're eleven."

Harry nodded, already knowing that bit of it. But something was bothering him. "What about Neville?"

"What about him?" It was Sirius who asked the question as he munched on a cookie.

"I heard his grandma talking to his mum about her worrying that Neville wasn't going to be magical, and that it was all his mum's fault," Harry said with wide-eyed innocence. "Is Neville going to be like a Muggle?"

Sirius and James exchanged a quick glance again. Augusta Longbottom still had not gotten over Alice's "stealing her Frank away", and made her displeasure known. Although Alice and Frank weren't worried about if their son was magical or not, as they'd love him either way and it really didn't matter, it was clear that Frank's very outspoken mother did not agree. Sirius and James knew of how Augusta blamed Alice for any small "blemish" – as she saw them – on her grandson, but they'd thought that she would have more tact than to say that with Harry in the room and clearly listening in. Apparently not.

"We don't know whether or not Neville will be magical," James answered his son's question. "It doesn't really matter if he is or isn't, does it?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Of _course _it matters, Daddy!" he said in a somewhat shocked and scandalized tone. James was about to reprimand Harry for being judgmental about blood, as it were – Sirius was too, probably – when Harry went on to explain his reasoning. "If Neville's not magical, he can't go to Hogwarts. And then I'll _never _see him!"

James felt his heart swell with pride at Harry's words. Harry was worried about the possible loss of a friend as he got older – he didn't care about whether or not someone was magical. James and Sirius had both worried and talked together about how to encourage Harry to not be bigoted about blood purity and such, especially because although Lily was muggleborn, she _was _a witch, and that was much different than being a Squib. They hadn't been sure how Harry would take it, but now it looked like it worked. He hadn't been around Muggles too much in their Wizarding village, so they'd never known how Harry viewed everything until that moment. And they were both damn proud of him.

Twenty minutes later, after Sirius had finished stuffing Harry with cookies out of pride, the room had been magically restored, and Harry had gone to sleep once again, James and Sirius went to the kitchen so that they could speak normally.

"He's powerful," Sirius said after a few moments of silence. "More powerful than _I _was at that age."

James nodded in agreement, going to get a glass of water. "Me, too. Of course, we knew that after he summoned his bottle when he was four months old."

Sirius smiled softly. "I'd almost forgotten about that…still, though. Imagine what he'll be like when he's ready to go to school."

James shook his head in horror, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "We'll be shoving him onto the train just to get him out of our hair for a few months," he joked. Sirius chuckled.

"Augusta needs to keep her mouth shut," he said after a moment, his jaw tense. "She shouldn't be saying those things _at all_, never mind around Harry and Neville."

"She shouldn't be saying it to Alice, either," James retorted. "And who cares whether or not Neville is a Squib or the next Merlin? _We _all love Neville just the same, and _she _should, too. It's her own _grandson_, for Merlin's sake."

"I could see you were about to go into a right fit at first after what Harry said." Sirius said with a slight smirk.

James nodded. "I would've, if he'd started off on some rant about blood purity," he stated. "Probably would've taken him over my knee, too. He'd learn more what a spanking is than the small swats we sometimes give him."

"He's _four_, James," Sirius scolded. "And barely."

"I was _three_ the first time Dad walloped me over _his_ knee," James retorted.

"Still," Sirius said with a strange sort of steel in his eyes as he spoke. "You can't _spank_ him and expect him to automatically conform to your beliefs. It's not right."

James knew exactly what Sirius was talking about, even when he didn't come right out and say it. He knew, probably more than anyone, about the Black's methods for raising their oldest son. Growing up, he had always been _made _to believe in all of the pureblooded bigotry that Voldemort had tried to enforce before his fall. If he said something kind about anyone who _wasn't _a pureblood, he was swiftly punished for it. All of the abuse had just pushed Sirius more toward being a "blood traitor", and going against everything his family believed in, even going so far as to fight against _them_, and run away from home and getting disowned. If James had spanked Harry for what Harry might've said, Sirius probably would've raised hell. It was the same as what he'd been put through, he would argue, just coming from the other side of the tracks.

But James had always been known to act before thinking, and he would realize that Sirius was right and he would be very sorry for punishing his son for his beliefs. So, it was all just as well that Harry _didn't _believe all that stuff.

"You're right, Sirius," James said with a sigh.

Sirius gave him a slight smirk, though his eyes were still a bit cold. "I'm _always_ right, Prongs. Why do you question me anymore?"

* * *

Harry squinted as he tried to make out the letters on the opposite wall.

"Just tell me what line you see first," the optometrist told him kindly. Harry squinted, and then began reading them off in a somewhat hesitant voice.

"P…um…D?...O…um…I…D?"

"How about the line above that one, dear?" the woman suggested as Harry continued to squint and make faces.

"L, P…E? And D." Harry recited much more readily.

"Very good, Harry," the woman smiled and wrote something down on her clipboard before standing up and opening the door of the dark room. "Why don't you go wait outside while I talk to your dad?"

"He's not my dad," Harry said simply as he got up from the somewhat uncomfortable chair. "My dad is at work."

"Alright, honey," the woman said with an odd smile as she guided Harry out the door. She wasn't quite sure what to say.

Harry noticed nothing amiss, and went out to where Sirius was reading a magazine in the waiting room.

"Hey, Puppy," Sirius said with a grin when he saw him. "Did you know that a shrimp's heart is in its head?"

The four-year-old looked at him oddly with an eyebrow wrinkled in a _Really? _sort of look. Sirius simply nodded sagely and went on, "It says so in this magazine." He waved the magazine at Harry. "And a hedgehog's heart beats three _hundred_ times a minute! That's like…"—he did the math quickly in his head—"…five beats per second! Doesn't sound like a lot out loud, but just picture your heart beating that fast! The _human _heart only beats once every second, so just multiply that by _five_…"

"The lady wants to talk to you, Sirius," Harry interrupted, fighting a smile.

"Oh!" Sirius clapped once and stood up. "Well, why didn't you say so?"

Harry just rolled his eyes good-naturedly as Sirius ruffled the hair on his head and went to the desk to talk to the lady who had done the eye exam on him.

A few minutes later, Sirius came back wearing a sort of smirk.

"Hey, Puppy," Sirius said, causing Harry to look up from studying one of the kid's picture books that had been on the table. "Looks like you get to choose some glasses!"

"Do I have to?" Harry said with a frown.

"What's wrong with glasses?" Sirius said, with something between a smirk and a confused frown.

"I have to make sure they stay on my face!" Harry proclaimed. "What if they fall off and break?!"

"Eh, that's nothing a simple _reparo _can't fix," Sirius said with a wave of his hand. "Why don't you go over there to the kids' section and pick some glasses – any kind you want?"

Harry sighed and went to the section of the wall he had pointed to, looking over the glasses on display. There were probably forty in all, from squares to ovals. Half of them were for girls, with princesses and rainbows on the frames, and the other half were for boys, with cars and some sort of popular superhero on them. Of course, there were some with plain old colors, but even so, the colors were such that even if they had been bigger frames, it would've been clear that they were made for kids. Harry frowned and studied each one before looking back at Sirius. Sirius was talking to the other optometrist who owned half of the office, and even Harry could see that he was flirting with the man. And he was only four.

Harry looked back at the wall, frowning, before a pair of glasses on the other wall caught his eye. He turned to study them more closely, and reached out to pull them off of their hook. He fixed them around his ears and across his nose, and then looked in the mirror to see what he looked like.

The glasses were made for adults, so they were slipping down his nose and looked huge on his small face, but Harry didn't care. He grinned and ran over to Sirius, tugging on his jeans to get his attention.

"Padfoot!" he exclaimed, and Sirius looked down, doing a double-take. Harry didn't notice his expression, however, and continued, "I want these ones!"

"Are you sure, kiddo?" Sirius questioned, squatting down so that he could be at eye level with his godson. He reached out and pushed the wire-rimmed circular lenses back up. "You said you wanted them to stay on your face and not fall off."

"But I _like _these ones!" Harry said almost petulantly. "I want _these _ones!"

And so it was. Sirius ordered the glasses for Harry, and was told that they would be ready to pick up in a few days. All the while he had to fight a grin as he remembered what Harry looked like in the glasses, and why Harry loved them so much. It wasn't hard to figure out, of course. The glasses Harry had picked out looked just like his dad's. And that meant that, at least at a subconscious level, Harry admired and looked up to his dad, and wanted to be just like him, even down to his looks. Harry was incredibly proud of his father, and wanted it to be obviously known that they were related.

Sirius couldn't _wait_ to tell James.

* * *

**So...you guys like? THANK YOU for all the reviews for the last chapter, by the way! They were awesome, and I love those of you who put real thought into it rather than a "Great chapter. Update soon." Ya know? I know all of you writers know what I'm talking about...:)**

**Also, thank you SO much to Louise-Maria, history grrl, Harry1675, cookyc, and FredNeverDied (of course), for all of the ideas! It was a lot of their ideas that brought forth these little scenes, so round of applause to them! :)**

**I should have the next chapter up soon! Cheers! :)**

**P.S. No, I haven't forgotten LTB, for anyone asking...but I'm at a block, so I went over to this...hold off the rotten tomatoes a little longer, though! I'll get to it...some day...**


	3. Chapter 2

**And, here's more of HP and the Polyjuice Disaster! I should really get back to LTB…**

**Shout-outs to minerdude, Louise-Maria, history grrl, and FredNeverDied (obviously)! Their ideas for raising Harry scenarios have been a godsend! (But I'd still love more, 'cause I've reached between 7 and 8 years old with what I've got so far...)**** :)**

* * *

Harry was practically quivering with excitement. This was nothing new, actually, but today he was _especially _quiverable. There was a reason for this. Today was his fifth birthday, and his dad and Sirius had agreed that it was the time that he should learn to _really _ride a broom. Gone were the toddlers' brooms that lifted no more than a foot or two off the ground. Now, he was the proud owner of a broom that could go _twenty _feet off the ground. It was still a broom made especially for kids, but now Harry could do more tricks without hitting his feet on the ground.

Not that he'd ever tell his dad and godfather that he'd done tricks on that broom – or tried to, anyway. They'd said once before, when he was three and had spun his whole body around the broomstick, that he was never to try anything like that _ever _again. A sound swat across his bum had enforced the message and helped him remember in the future to only do it when he was in the safety of his _locked_ room. Once, he'd even tried to stand on the broom and ride it around his room. He had been almost four, and he had fallen off and hit his head on his bedside table. Luckily it had been in the middle of the night, so when his dad had come in to see what the noise had been, he had already shoved the broom under his bed and told his worried father that he'd fallen out of bed.

Looking back on it, he was sure that James had known he was lying, but knew that he wouldn't suspect that he'd fallen off his broom. Especially because he knew very well that his father never bluffed, and if he'd really known what it was Harry had been doing, he would have swatted him again rather than helping him back into bed.

But that wasn't what he was thinking about right then. No, what he was thinking about was the fact that James and Sirius were taking him to the neighborhood Quidditch pitch! In the summer there were always several kids out and ready to play, and Harry had longed for the longest time to be able to go and play with them, but his broom – and his guardians/parents – had not permitted it. There were two pitches at the Wizard park – one for the younger kids and one for the ones in school. Sometimes there were nine- and ten-year-olds that were so good that they could play Quidditch with the Hogwarts students, and Harry was hoping against hope that _he _could be one of them.

He skipped down the street, clutching his broom tightly as James and Sirius trailed behind him, going toward the park. As he got closer, he could see many wizards and witches already flying around. This was hardly news – it was just after lunchtime when all of the chores around the house and such were done. He looked back at his dad as he approached the gate, and James waved genially for him to go on, grinning with pride all the while.

So Harry mounted his broom and shot toward the closest player at the older pitch, who was playing Beater with a black band tied around his head.

"Hi!" Harry chirped, and the older boy spun around, swinging his bat toward his head with perfect precision. Harry yelped and ducked, the bat missing him by a hair.

"Oi!" the boy said angrily. "You're so tiny, I thought you were a Bludger! Get back on your own pitch where you belong, pipsqueak!"

"I just wanted to know if I could play with you guys…" Harry tried, excitement faltering in the face of the much older boy's wrath.

"No! Get atta here!" the boy exclaimed.

"But it's my birthday," Harry whispered, fighting desperately to keep the tears at bay.

"Well, _Birthday Boy_," the boy sneered, "Go play with people your own _age_, seeing as your _size_ is too small for them, too!"

A tear slipped from Harry's eye as he turned his broom and flew quickly back to where James and Sirius had just walked into the park. Dismounting his broom quickly, he clutched tightly to the broomstick as he threw his arms around his dad's waist, hugging tightly. He buried his face into the man's stomach, causing the shirt to get wet.

"Hey," James said concernedly, rubbing circles in Harry's back. "What's wrong, Snitchy?"

Harry shook his head and pushed his face deeper into the fabric of the shirt, fighting a sob that was working its way up his throat. He felt a hand in his hair and thought it was his dad, but then he heard Sirius' voice by his ear.

"What's the matter, Prongslet?" Sirius asked anxiously, squatting beside the boy. "Were some kids mean to you? You want me to beat 'em up?"

"_Not_ helping, Padfoot," James said with a roll of his eyes.

"He called me small and told me I don't belong playing with 'em," Harry explained tearfully.

Sirius' expression hardened to one of parental indignation, and he rose to his feet, making as though to start across the pitch to the boy who had dared to hurt his precious godson's feelings. James, however, grabbed his arm, preventing him from doing anything rash.

"He was probably in Slytherin," James told his son. "And who needs to play with a slimy snake like that, anyway?"

"Excuse me."

The three of them turned their heads to see a boy about nine or ten years old with a burly build for his age. He walked with confidence, seeming to have a commanding air about him and an excited, enthusiastic gleam in his brown eyes. He was holding his shiny new Nimbus 1000 in one hand.

"Are you Harry?" the boy asked. Harry nodded, though he didn't speak. People always acted oddly when they found out who he was, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. He'd asked his dad and Sirius about it before, of course, but they had responded with the same "Because everyone has heard of your legendary good looks and skills" – or something of the sort – and then proceeded to tickle him again then and there. He thought that this boy was going to react oddly as well, and he really wasn't in the mood for it right then.

"I'm Oliver," the boy said in his Scottish accent, sticking a hand out for Harry to shake. He was acting normally enough, so Harry deemed it alright to shake the older boy's hand as the boy continued speaking. "I was thinking of playing some Quidditch – I'm a Keeper, of course. I noticed you were getting in a bit of trouble with West. He's like that with everybody – especially the younger kids. It's nothing personal, really."

"He thought I was a Bludger 'cause I was too small," Harry volunteered, not sure why he was sharing this with a stranger, but something about the boy made him trust him.

"Well, can you blame 'im?" Oliver laughed. Seeing the hurt flicker over Harry's face, and the anger rising in Sirius and James, he said, "It's alright to be small, you know. You'd make a fair Seeker that way. Saw how you came shootin' down here on your broom – you're a natural!"

Harry gave him a somewhat shy, shaky smile at the praise, and Sirius and James backed down a bit. Oliver went on, "I have some friends coming soon to play some Quidditch – they're all my age, but I reckon they'd let you play with us. You interested?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically, but then his face fell. "I can't go super high on my broom, though," he told him. "I just got it."

"Eh, who needs height?" Oliver said jovially, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly way. "We'll be using the kids' pitch, anyway – and my friend Hayden is bringing some of the kids' balls – they can only go to twenty feet, so you should be set!"

Harry walked off with Oliver as the older boy began jabbering about Quidditch games he'd played and teams he'd supported, a big grin on his face at the realization that he'd found a new friend.

* * *

"Now, have you got your lunch?"

"_Yes_, Daddy," Harry said in a long-suffering tone. "And my pencils, and my spare change, and my water bottle, and my mirr'r, and – "

"Alright, alright," Sirius interrupted his godson as James' face looked somewhat abashed. "Prongslet's got everything he needs, and if he has any trouble, he has the mirror to call one of us. Now, Harry…" his voice became more serious as he squatted down to be eye-level with the soon-to-be kindergartner, though his eyes were somewhat amused. "Now remember, it's your first day of school, so listen to your teacher, try to keep your magic under control – and no fighting! Play nice with the other kids – unless, of course, one of the other kids wanna fight, then you have to kick the other kid's butt." **(A/N: quote taken from Mulan, with my added bit to make it work for this ;p)**

Harry stared at him for a moment before saying. "Okay, Padfoot. Can I go to class now?"

"Yes, you can go to class." Sirius said, and Harry turned to go to the classroom just across the school yard. "Wait! Give your old godfather a hug first, won't you?"

Harry gave him an indulgent smile and hugged Sirius before hugging James as well. When James began to hold him for too long, Harry wriggled to get away.

"Bye, Daddy!" he called, running off to class.

Sirius and James both watched him go with the same feelings as many parents do when their child goes to school for the first time; pride, loss, fear, and happiness. Probably some other feelings as well, but those were the ones they felt most at the forefront of their minds.

"You think it's a good idea he's going to Muggle school?" James asked anxiously after Harry had gone inside the two-classroom building. "His magic still goes a bit haywire sometimes. Maybe we should've waited another year or two…"

"James, stop fretting," Sirius gently admonished. "He knows how to get his magic to calm down, and he was excited to go. Besides, it will help him later on, understanding magic better, too."

"I suppose you're right," James sighed. "Still…it's weird, seeing him growing up so fast."

Sirius chuckled a bit at that. "Just wait till he goes to Hogwarts. I, for one, will feel like an old grandpa."

James groaned good-naturedly. "Don't remind me, Padfoot."

* * *

Alice Longbottom was used to shouting little boys. Originally she had thought that she would have only one son born in 1980. And that had been true, for about fifteen months…and then she suddenly had another son who was born the very day after her own.

Of course Harry Potter was her son. She and Lily had been best friends through school, and even though Harry _lived _with James and Sirius, she became a sort of surrogate mother. It wasn't really intentional, but as the little green-eyed, black-haired boy grew older, she began to see him as one of her own. And then of course, Harry and Neville got along so well – they'd been best friends since birth, really.

That was part of the issue with shouting and screaming little boys. Firstly, they were best friends. Best friends always shrieked and laughed together over their jokes and playing. Secondly, they were boys. _Young _boys. There was always going to be some mishap or injury with little boys, because that was just in the make-up of their body. Thirdly, it was _Harry and Neville_. The fact that Harry was raised by the two biggest, loudest, most rambunctious pranksters in Hogwarts history was not lost on Alice. She knew what to expect as Harry grew older, and she wasn't disappointed. He was just as crazy as the two men raising him.

…Which wasn't to say that he wasn't anything like Lily – he was very much like Lily in many ways. Perhaps saying he was _just as _crazy as James and Sirius was a stretch. He had inherited more of Lily's thoughtfulness and planning, and he was much kinder. James and Sirius weren't _rude_, exactly, but Alice still remembered the arrogant bullies they'd once been, especially in their fifth year. Sometimes she still saw a glimmer of the boys they'd been back then in one of their eyes, but they had definitely grown up in the ten years since then.

But her thoughts were wandering. What was she thinking? Oh, yes – shouting little boys. Yes, she was very used to it, where Harry and Neville were concerned. Sometimes her three-year-old, Nathaniel (or Nate, as they called him), would join in their shrieking and playing, though Neville didn't want his little brother playing with them most of them time.

However, one Tuesday evening when Harry was over while James and Sirius had gone out with Frank for a guys' night, the shouting coming from the backyard wasn't the calls of playing that Harry and Neville usually had. In fact, she thought she even heard Harry shout a "bugger off!" at Neville, to which Neville responded with a "_you_ bugger off!"

_Oh, boys, _she sighed, and decided to simply wait until they came to her with the problem. It didn't seem to be a violent argument, at any rate – not like last week.

Sure enough, Neville and Harry came into the kitchen a couple of minutes later, each pushing and shoving to try and get to Alice first.

"Mummy!" Neville cried, and got past Harry for a moment before Harry grabbed his shirt and pulled him back, running ahead of him.

"Aunt Alice!" he exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of said woman. He panted slightly as he looked up at her through troubled, confused, and defiant eyes. "Where do babies come from?"

Alice completely froze, staring at the two boys with widened eyes. That was the _last _thing she would've expected them to be arguing about – for Merlin's sake, they were _five_! – and now she didn't know what to say.

"Daddy told me you have to go to the store and buy them in boxes!" Neville told her, glaring at Harry. He pointed to Harry condemningly and said as though he was tattling, "But _he _says—"

"Sirius told _me_ that babies are made out of clay," Harry cut him off, wanting to be the one to do the telling. "And then you have to have really special magic that makes them come alive!"

"But that's not right – _is _it, Mummy?" Neville said with a smug look, expecting his mother to agree with him.

Alice closed her eyes and sighed. _Oh, dear Merlin…Frank, Sirius, and James…I think I'll leave this to you guys._

xxx

"...and that's how a baby is made." James finished, fighting to keep his amusement from showing at the somewhat shocked, wide-eyed little boys in front of him.

"That. Is…" Harry started.

"Gross!" Neville joined in, and they looked at each other.

"I'm _never_ doing that," Harry told him seriously.

Neville shook his head solemnly. "Me _neither_."

"You'll love it when you're older," Sirius said, perfectly relaxed as he ate from a bag of chips.

"You don't _have _babies, Padfoot," Harry pointed out in an almost scolding voice. "You don't _know_." Frank and James both looked at each other, and then gave Sirius a significant look. He gave them both a cheeky smirk.

Neville and Harry missed the interaction, however, as they were debating the merits of James' explanation, with the occasional input from Sirius and Frank.

"I'm glad _I'm_ not a girl," Neville told Harry with a shudder. "I'd _hate _to have to eat pickles with maple syrup."

"And bananas with barbecue sauce," Harry added with a wrinkled nose. "_Yuck_!"

Because of course, the three men didn't tell the _real _way that babies were made. That was too difficult to explain.

Maybe when they were older.

**A/N: For anyone who didn't pick up on the foods, Sirius, James, and Frank tweaked the story to apply to food while still making it gross but also including Alice's cravings when she was pregnant and Lily's when she was. And of course, we all know what pickles and bananas are shaped like…they can get into the specifics with the boys later, but for now I thought it was cute that they _continued _to make up the stories…;p**

* * *

Harry stomped into the living room in a foul mood, fists clenched at his sides and his face set in a fierce scowl. Or, as fierce as a six-year-old's scowl could be. Sirius was pacing over by the couch, but he stopped when he heard the Floo depositing the boy and his father into the room.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, relief obvious in his voice. "Thank Merlin you're okay!"

Harry scowled further and turned to exit, with the intention of going up to his room and most probably screaming into his pillow.

"Don't you _dare_ leave, Harry James," his dad said in a dangerous voice, one that Harry intended to ignore in his fury, but James had strode forward and grabbed his forearm, stopping him. "Do you have _any_ idea how worried we were when we found out you were missing? Do you know how dangerous it is for you to use the Floo alone, and then _go to Diagon Alley_?!"

"Let _go_ of me!" Harry cried, trying to wrench free from his dad's grip. In a quick move, James turned Harry's body to the side and delivered a firm swat to his rear.

"Do _not _try and escape me, young man," he said sharply. "You're in enough trouble as it is. What in _Merlin's _name possessed you to disobey me and go to Diagon Alley alone?"

"I wanted to go," Harry pouted, struggles lessening significantly after the smack. "And you told me I had to wait. But I wanted to go _today_! It's the last day to get a free pack of chocolate frogs if you buy a pack of ice mice!"

"I told you that you couldn't go to Diagon Alley today because you went flying yesterday in the rain when I specifically told you to wait until the storm passed over!"

"But you _already_ took my broom away for that!" Harry protested angrily. "It's not _fair _that I can't go to Diagon Alley, either!"

"_That_ was the punishment that was set out!" James thundered. "You are to follow the rules as they are put forth, with no arguments, or so help me, I will send you to your room till you come of age! _Do you understand?!_"

Harry was scowling, his jaw firmly set, eyes glittering with unshed tears as he stared defiantly up at his dad. Sirius took a step forward.

"James – " he said, with the intention of calming the man from his wrath. He knew that James was only so heated because they'd both been so incredibly worried in the hour he'd spent looking for the child in Diagon Alley, and that was coming out as anger now.

But James raised a hand, not even looking at Sirius, eyes firmly focused on the angry boy still in his grasp.

"_Don't_ try and justify this, Sirius!" he ordered. "Harry needs to realize that what he did was wrong, and he's not doing _anything _until he does!"

Harry's eyes locked on his own then, and a single tear slipped from his eye, quickly lost as it dropped down his cheek. And then James saw not only the anger, but also hurt.

But he hardly had time to dwell on this, as Harry's gaze went to Sirius, still standing behind him. Abruptly, Harry went still, and the anger drained from his face, to be replaced with sorrow and pain. James loosened his grip slightly now that his son was no longer struggling, and turned to see what had caused such a reaction in Harry.

All the breath expelled from his lungs suddenly as he saw the last person he had ever expected to see. Everything was the same as it had been five years ago – from the sweet face to the fiery hair to the bright green eyes he saw in his son every day.

"Lily…" he whispered, his grip on Harry's arm going completely slack.

"James…" But it wasn't Lily's voice that came out – it was Sirius'. He looked sad at the expression on his best friend's face – he'd felt the transfiguration when it happened, and knew how it would affect him.

James understood then what had happened. Harry's accidental magic must've flared up again, and in his wish for his mother, had accidentally transfigured Sirius to look like Lily. He turned to look at Harry, but Harry slipped away from him and darted up the stairs to his room, door clicking shut behind him.

"Prongs…" James felt a hand on his arm, and out of the corner of his eye he could see that Sirius had spelled himself back to normal. He felt pain and relief wash over him all at once as Sirius went on, "Do you want me to talk to him?"

James paused before shaking his head. "No," he said quietly. "I'll go."

He knocked on Harry's door a couple of minutes later before turning the knob and letting himself in. He saw Harry sitting on his bed, hugging his legs and his forehead pressed to his knees. James could see the small tremors running through his son as the little boy cried softly.

"Hey, Snitchy…" he said gently, and Harry sniffed, not lifting his head from his knees. James went over to the bed and sat down on the side of it, watching his son all the while.

"I'm sorry for shouting, Harry," he said after a moment. "It was very wrong of you to Floo to Diagon Alley when I said no, but I was just so scared when I found out you were missing, and I wasn't thinking." He sighed and went on, "Sometimes, I just can't manage this alone. And I know that Sirius is like a second parent – so I'm not _really _alone – but sometimes it's hard without your mother."

Harry had stopped crying now, but he still remained curled up, listening intently to his dad.

"I know that it's hard for you, too, Harry," James said. "I can't imagine what it would be like to be raised without a mother, but I know that everything would turn out okay – do you know why?"

Harry, still with his forehead on his knees, shook his head.

"Because – the ones that love us never _really _leave us," James said in a slightly choked-up voice as he remembered Sirius saying these words to him a little bit after Lily and Remus had died. "You can always find them in your heart, for in your heart they will live on forever." After a pause, he continued, "Your mother loved you _very _much, Harry, as do Sirius and I. Never forget that."

Harry untangled himself and moved to hug his father tightly around the waist. "I love you too, Daddy," he sobbed. "I'm sorry for sneaking away and for being bad and making you scared and making you cry and making Sirius look like Mummy and – !"

James smiled sadly and tugged Harry so that he was sitting on his lap, hugging him back just as tightly and effectively cutting off Harry's apologies. He pressed a kiss to the top of Harry's mop of hair, rubbing soothing circles on his back as Harry cried himself out. James' eyes also weren't dry in the least. Tears of love and pain and loss spilled from his eyes as he rested the side of his face on Harry's head.

Sirius stood in the doorway, a tear slipping from one eye as he looked in on the scene. He thought of Lily, and of Remus, and thought of how unfair it was that they should have to lose both of them. He loved them both so much, though of course in different ways. Another tear dripped from his chin, though he didn't wipe it away.

Sirius sighed and turned away, murmuring, "Lily…I'm so sorry. I'll watch over them for you while you're gone."

Then, a gust of wind blew swiftly through the hall from the window at the end, and Sirius heard what sounded like a very familiar laugh, and a different voice whispering, _I know you will._

Shaking his head, he went to close the window, and attributed the sound that was very similar to Remus' laugh and Lily's voice to the rustle of the leaves of the tree just outside.

* * *

"…And then the Slytherin Dungeon Bat was defeated, once again, thanks to the heroic efforts of the Incredibly Handsome Gryffindor Dog and the Quidditch-Crazy Gryffindor Stag!" Sirius finished telling his bedtime story to Harry with a flourish, gesticulating wildly. Harry watched him with amused eyes, sitting with his back resting against the headboard.

"You like that story, Puppy?" Sirius asked with a grin.

Harry nodded solemnly, already beginning to scoot underneath the covers for bed. "You told it last week too, though," he informed his godfather.

"No!" Sirius said in a mockingly scandalized voice, holding a hand to his heart. "Did I, really? Well, that simply cannot be done…have I told you the one about the Giant Squid?"

Harry nodded. "And the Slytherin Dungeon Bat had purple skin for a month after that."

"Hm…how about the one about the Slytherin Dungeon Bat and the Green Glue?" Harry nodded again. "What about the one with the Slytherin Dungeon Bat and the Forbidden Forest? The Slytherin Dungeon Bat and the Incident With the Muggle Marbles?" Each time, Harry nodded that he'd heard them. Sirius scratched his head in bewilderment, about to offer up another one until Harry spoke.

"Sirius? Can I ask you something?"

Sirius could see that Harry was somber and maybe even slightly nervous, and instantly grew concerned.

"Of course, Prongslet – what's wrong?"

Harry worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before saying, "Why is the symbol for Slytherin a snake?"

Sirius blinked, surprised that Harry was asking such a mundane question so seriously. Recovering, he said, "Well, Salazar Slytherin, the founder of Slytherin house, was a Parselmouth. He was well-known for it, so he made the snake his symbol, and consequently Slytherin House."

"What's a…a Par…"

"A Parselmouth?" Sirius filled in. "It means that they speak Parseltongue – snakes' language. Basically, he could talk to and understand snakes. This was something he was very proud of, as it is a very rare hereditary trait. Others saw talking to snakes as a sign of evil, especially after meeting him."

"_Is _it evil?" Harry asked him.

Sirius shrugged. "_I_ don't think so. So you're born able to talk another language – big deal. Who knows, though? All the Parselmouths I've heard of have been bad, though – take Lord Voldemort, for example. He's probably the most well-known Parselmouth in the Wizarding World – he had a huge pet snake, Nagini, that would do his bidding. Everyone feared her, and subsequently Parselmouths."

"But that's like saying everyone should be scared of people with brown hair, because a few of them turned out bad – isn't it?"

"Not quite," Sirius said with a shake of his head. "The ability to speak to snakes is much rarer, for one, and for another, Parselmouths usually go to Slytherin. I don't know of any that went to another house, come to think of it…but the point is, they're rather known for being cunning and doing anything to achieve their own end. But you already know how I feel about Slytherin, so no point in getting into that."

"But does being able to talk to snakes automatically put you in Slytherin?" Harry pressed. "What if you're brave, but you can talk to snakes? Or smart, or loyal?"

"You can still be brave and go to Slytherin, you know," Sirius said with a shrug. "Or smart, or loyal – or any other traits that would put you in other houses. That goes for any of the houses. But being able to talk with snakes shouldn't necessarily put you in Slytherin – I'm just saying that that's one of the things that Salazar Slytherin valued, and that's what the Sorting Hat will look for in a person. Why all the questions, Pup?"

Harry blinked quickly, gathering his thoughts and trying to hide his tumultuous feelings from his godfather. "Nothing," he muttered, going under the covers and turning over. "It's nothing."

Sirius frowned, knowing something was bothering the child, but he nevertheless kissed him goodnight and left the room, turning off the light on the way out.

The next day, he was still mulling over his conversation with Harry the night before, and James noticed his preoccupation.

"What's on your mind, Padfoot?" he asked him as he added ham to the sandwiches in front of him, and Sirius made some lemonade.

"Harry," he said simply, still thinking.

"What about him?" James asked, suddenly concerned. "Is he alright? Did something happen? Is…"

Sirius' chuckle cut him off. "Merlin, James – you sound like Lily. Nothing's wrong with the kid – he was just asking a lot of questions last night and seemed a bit bothered. It's nothing serious."

"Oh," James looked relieved. "Well…what was he asking about?"

"Nothing important," Sirius said, brushing the topic away as he finished the lemonade and set it on the table. "I'll go get Harry from the backyard – you're almost done with the sandwiches, anyway."

Without waiting for a response, he went into the next room and opened the back door, going into the garden to look for Harry, where he'd left him. He wasn't by the back gate as last time he'd looked out to check on him, so he went to the side of the house, behind the bushes.

As he got closer, he began to hear a strange, creepy, hissing sort of noise. As his mind was still on the conversation he and Harry'd had the night before, he immediately thought of snakes. Shaking his head, he approached the sound a bit warily, as it was coming from just behind the bushes lining the yard.

He peered over the bushes, and was absolutely gobsmacked by what he'd found.

There was Harry – sweet, innocent, six-year-old little Harry – sitting in the middle of what must've been at least twenty, maybe even thirty garden snakes. Some were draped over his crossed legs, a couple of them were on his arms and shoulders, and he held one snake in each hand. He would've been frightened for Harry's safety, if it hadn't been for the look on his godson's face. He looked far from frightened – he actually looked very comfortable.

And…oh, Merlin…_he _was making hissing noises _back_ at them. And that wouldn't have been so weird – children often thought that their pets could understand them if they imitated what it sounded like to them – except that the _sound _of Harry making those strange noises rose the hairs on his arms. It had a sort of ethereal quality, the way Harry was making the sounds, like it was echoing in his head rather than sounding in his ears. And he knew in that moment, without a doubt, that Harry _was _speaking Parseltongue.

He must've made some sort of sound, because suddenly Harry's head snapped up, and his green gaze bored into Sirius'. The comfort and easiness was gone from his eyes in a second to be replaced with regret and dread. Sirius' brain hardly registered that the snakes were quickly slithering away from him, away from Harry, as he stared at the young child in front of him who he could not have _imagined_ having such a power as this.

"I'm sorry," Harry said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius opened and closed his mouth several times before he could get any sort of response out. "Let's go inside. …Lunch is ready, and your dad will probably want to talk to you."

xxx

"I'm sorry" was all Harry seemed capable of saying at lunch after Sirius had shared Harry's _surprising _news with James. James shared much the same reaction as Sirius did, and was looking between the two as though expecting it to be nothing more than a huge joke.

"How?" he finally said, flabbergasted. "_I'm _not a Parselmouth – Lily wasn't – my parents weren't – how did…?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Harry whispered, but James didn't hear him.

"I mean…it's hereditary…" James went on, mystified. "And I'm related to Godric Gryffindor – not Salazar Slytherin…"

"Maybe some of their descendants got together?" Sirius suggested.

"One would think that the trait would be lost after so many generations…" James mused, still dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, even softer than before, staring at the table as he sank further in his seat.

"Well, he got it _somehow_," Sirius said, not hearing Harry. "Could've been his great-great-eight-times-great-grandfather who got it, it went recessive for a while, pops up randomly right here."

"How long have you been able to talk to snakes?" James questioned, finally turning to Harry, who by now only had the top of his head visible above the table. "Snitchy? What's wrong?"

Sirius noticed tears spilling from Harry's eyes from his point at the table, and immediately went over to him. "Hey, hey! What's wrong, Puppy? Why are you crying?"

"'Cause you hate Slytherins, and now 'cause I talk to snakes, I'm gonna go in Slytherin and you're gonna hate me!" Harry said all of this in a wail before he began sobbing.

"Hey, calm down, Puppy," Sirius tried to soothe him, enfolding him in a hug. "No one hates you – that's impossible!"

Harry looked up at him through hurt, red-rimmed eyes. "But you said Slytherins are evil, and people who talk to snakes always go in Slytherin."

"Firstly, not _all _Slytherins are evil, Harry," Sirius said gently, sitting in the chair across from him and leaning over so that he could hold Harry's hands in his own much larger ones. "And not everyone who talks to snakes go in Slytherin. And even if you _did _go in Slytherin, we'd still love you! You're still our Harry! We could _never _hate you!"

Harry sniffed and used the back of his hand to wipe his nose. "But the Slytherin in your stories is always picked on," he pointed out. "The Incredibly Handsome Gryffindor Dog and the Quidditch-Crazy Gryffindor Stag are always super mean to the Slytherin Dungeon Bat, even when he doesn't do anything. So Slytherins are always bullied and are bad even when they're not."

Sirius looked stunned. He'd never really thought about it before, but Harry was right. Of course the people in the stories were James, him, and Snape, and Snape never really made the first strike – he only defended.

"Well…they're not _all _bad," Sirius said, finally finding the words to speak. "Just the Slytherin Dungeon Bat, really…but even if you go to Slytherin, people will love you, and more importantly, _we _will love you. Alright?"

Harry looked over to James, who had been quiet the whole time, letting Sirius take the lead. However, when Harry looked at him with doubtful eyes, James realized with shock that Harry was asking him wordlessly if he agreed with what Sirius said.

At once James rose to his feet, going to the living room for a moment. In a bit, he came back, something small clutched in his hand. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to Sirius, across from Harry. He held out his hand, presenting Harry with the object he held.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight of his father's prized Snitch, the one that always sat on the mantel where he wasn't allowed to play with it unless James or Sirius was there and had said that it was alright. Harry took it from his grasp, holding the slightly warmed metal in his small hands.

"This is my most prized possession, Harry," James told him with a proud smile. "This was my very first Snitch, the only one I ever caught. I played Chaser at Hogwarts, but in my Seventh Year the Seeker had an accident and I had to fill in. After I won the game in record time, it was that day – coincidentally – that your mother said yes to a proposal to a date. Whenever I looked at it, I was always reminded that it was that day that led to my victory, my pride." He reached out and closed Harry's fingers over the Snitch. "I want you to have it now."

Harry looked up at him quickly with wide eyes, wondering for a fleeting moment if he was joking. But James' eyes were soft and honest.

"Keep it, as a reminder that my pride, my victory, isn't a little ball with wings – it's my wonderful, amazing son who I couldn't be more proud of." James said in a slightly choked up voice. "_You_, Harry, are my pride, my victory, _my little Snitchy_ and nothing – not talking to snakes or being Sorted into Slytherin – can _ever_ change that."

Harry's face broke into a radiant smile as he beamed at James. Sirius smiled quietly on the pair as Harry threw his arms around James' neck, Snitch clutched in his white-knuckled grasp.

* * *

**Still looking for more older child Harry ideas! :)**


	4. Chapter 3

**And here's the next chapter! Hope you guys love! ;p**

**Thanks to Louise-Maria, history grrl, and of course, FredNeverDied, for the inspiration for these clips/scenes from young Harry's life! Love your feedback!**

* * *

James Potter was used to his best friend, aka Sirius Black, get all of the attention from the ladies. He really preferred for the women to go to the grey-eyed man rather than himself – he'd always only had eyes for Lily. Lily was the only one he had ever had a crush on or ever dated, and he preferred to keep it that way. Sirius, on the other hand, had always appreciated a bit of attention. Even after he and Remus had gotten together in Sixth Year, he soaked up all of the attention he could get, even of the romantic sort. It wasn't that he would ever cheat on Remus, and didn't even accept the ladies' invitations to a such-and-such place at a certain time. He just enjoyed that so many people loved him, even when he loved only one.

When Sirius was with James, James seemed to be forgotten about. It wasn't that James wasn't handsome by any means – it was just that Sirius had this suave, confident air exuding from him that drew everyone – man and woman alike – in.

But one day, something happened that had _never _happened before and that they weren't sure would ever happen again…

xxx

Seven-year-old Harry held his father's and godfather's hands as they walked into the nice Muggle restaurant. Children didn't usually come to a restaurant of this sort, but it was Harry's birthday and he'd seen the place in a magazine somewhere and insisted on going. And, doting parents that they were, they had agreed. It's not like they didn't have enough money, after all.

The threesome drew looks as they walked in, and the hostess walked up to them with a smile.

"Reservations for Potter, party of three?" she asked, barely managing to hide a skeptical eye at Harry from their view.

"That's us," Sirius said, as James told Harry to settle down.

"Follow me, please," she told them with a smile, and they were led down a quiet hallway to a room with maybe ten tables inside. Older men and women were seated around the various tables, at various stages of their meals. A couple of older women almost outright _glared _at the young threesome as they sat down. The men had to fight chuckles at their obvious jealousy that they could afford this at younger ages.

James and Sirius sat down at the table they were directed to, and Harry sat across from them, nearer to the corner. He grinned and swung his legs a bit, drawing even more scowls in their direction.

"Oh, piss off," Sirius muttered under his breath when he noticed. James nudged him with his elbow as the waitress came and explained the menu to them before taking their orders.

About half an hour later, their food had arrived and Harry was smiling as he ate his burger rather messily.

"Slow down, Puppy," Sirius chuckled, reaching across to wipe off a smear on his cheek with his cloth napkin. Harry obediently ate slower, albeit rather reluctantly.

Then one of the women from before that had scowled at them sniffed and said loud enough for them to hear, "It's sad when they let the homosexuals into a fine establishment such as this, isn't it, honey?"

Sirius and James both heard her comment, and the answer was muttered just soft enough that they couldn't hear it. But both had stilled, highly offended. Not that the woman thought that they were together, but that she had made any comment about it _at all_. Sirius was gay, and James was his best friend, and _no one _was allowed to talk about Sirius like that, and consequently the late Remus Lupin.

"No need to be so prejudiced, Matilda," another woman said. "I'm sure they are _fine_ young men – and look how they care for their little boy."

"You wanna give them something to _really _talk about, then?" James muttered.

"I'm game if you are," Sirius said, knowing exactly what he was talking about. James flashed him a quick smile before leaning across the table to speak in low tones to Harry.

"Harry," he said, causing Harry to look up and see the somewhat mischievous look on his dad's and godfather's faces. The expression on his face instantly changed from content to sneaky.

"Are you playing a prank?" he demanded in a hushed voice.

James quirked a smile at him. "Of sorts," he said calmly. "Now, for this prank, Sirius and I are going to do some things that I want you to act like are totally normal. Can you do that for me?"

Harry nodded solemnly before grinning and going back to his hamburger, though he still watched the two of them, waiting to see what they would do.

And so, feeling that he had prepared Harry as much as he could, James turned to Sirius, bending in close to his face so that their lips were almost touching.

"Always ready for a prank, right?" James breathed, fighting to hide laughter at the strange situation.

"Always," Sirius laughed softly, and then pressed his lips to James'.

The kiss was slightly awkward, but Sirius pretended that it was Remus' lips and James pretended it was Lily's, even though to James it was odd with Sirius' slight stubble and to Sirius James' lips were drier than Remus'. They deepened the kiss, Sirius snaking his arm around James' waist and tugging him closer.

Then they heard Harry sigh loudly. "Can you stop _kissing_ all the time?" he demanded in a perfectly petulant tone. "I'm _eating_."

James and Sirius broke away at the same time, turning their heads to smile at Harry somewhat mischievously, with the right touch of abashed for the people that might see the expressions on their faces.

"Our little Marauder," Sirius proclaimed, proud of Harry's improvisational skills.

And at the chattering of the gossiping old ladies behind them, James and Sirius smirked at each other, proud of a prank well pulled.

But they both knew that it was much more than just a prank. Those women were wrong to say what they did so outright, especially with Harry there. What if they _had _been a couple? Harry definitely would've been upset after hearing their words.

And somehow, they knew that Remus and Lily both would approve of the job well done.

* * *

"I bet he won't be _too _mad…Uncle Sirius is cool about this kind of stuff."

Harry shot a doubtful look to his best friend. "I don't think so. He said using someone else's wand is dangerous, 'specially when I'm only eight and haven't gone to Hogwarts yet."

"But it's Uncle _Sirius_," Neville argued, gazing at the wand sitting on the coffee table. "He's always super cool with magic. Remember when he gave me bunny ears and a tail on Easter?"

Harry couldn't help the smile that crossed his face at the remembered event that had happened when they were six. A moment later though, he frowned again as he remembered what came after. "Yeah, and my dad was really mad at him for it since no one knew the counter spell and you had to go to St. Mungo's to get them off."

"But that was _Sirius_."

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Remember when Sirius was in charge of watching us for the night and we explored the attic again and found the old time turner and kept going back to earlier in the day to play pranks on him without him realizing it was us?"

Neville nodded. "He felt cheated, 'cause he thought it was something else in the house that kept doing all that stuff to him."

Harry shook his head. "That's not what he was mad about – he was mad that we used a magical object without knowing the dangers and stuff with it, and we were alone. After you left, he walloped me real' bad."

Neville sighed in a long-suffering way and said, "It couldn't have been _that _bad, Harry."

Harry stared at him, pushing away the faint embarrassment that came with admitting what he was about to. "It was the first time I was walloped over the knee."

Neville's eyes widened. "Over the _knee_?" he said, horrified. "You were four! My first time was when I was almost six!"

Harry shrugged. "I was almost five," he reasoned. "And my dad was spanked first over the knee when he was three."

Neville shook his head in astonishment. "Wow."

"Anyway," Harry said, desperately wishing to change the topic, "Sirius is fun, but he's responsible, too. And if he found out that I tried using his wand…" he shook his head, leaving it at that.

"Well…" Neville said hesitantly, "What if we use Oliver's?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. Oliver had just finished his first year at Hogwarts, and they knew that he would be coming over later that day to play some Quidditch, but perhaps he would show them a few spells afterwards? They _were_ almost nine, after all…

"Let's ask him when he comes over," Harry said with a grin. "I bet I can convince him if I let him borrow my new broom…"

Harry and Neville both chuckled at that, knowing it was true. Neither of them noticed Sirius standing in the doorway, gazing at his godson with a fond, proud look. He'd heard most of their conversation about using his wand, and it gave him a bit more peace of mind. He had left his wand alone for a few minutes to take a Floo call, and when he came back and heard their conversation, he was ready to intervene before Harry was even _able _to try using the wand. But then he'd heard Harry's explanation, insisting that they shouldn't, and he felt relief swoop in on him. Until he'd heard the conversation, he'd never realized that on some level, he worried that he shouldn't have gone and taken Harry over his knee those years ago when they were messing about with the time turner. But knowing that Harry had been left with that impression even now gave him a sense of relief that the spanking _had _helped. (Of course, the times after that when Sirius had had to spank him probably helped as well…)

With a smile growing on his face, he walked from the room without coming back for his wand. He knew that it would be safe on the table.

* * *

"Yes, Mr. Potter – we'll be careful!" Oliver grinned as James reminded the two of them yet _again _of the dangers of what they would be doing. James didn't like to give off the impression that he was like a mother hen, but he did – without fail – every time something mildly dangerous or traumatizing came up when it concerned Harry. Oliver didn't really mind – after having known James, Sirius, and Harry for almost four years to the day now, he was used to the family. Although it hadn't quite been acknowledged out loud, Harry considered Oliver like an older brother, and James and Sirius like a son. Harry couldn't remember the last time when, besides when Oliver was it school, he ever went more than a day without seeing him. Frequently they played Quidditch, with Harry as Seeker and Oliver as Keeper. Sometimes Neville joined as a Beater, but most of the time Oliver just brought some of his friends and Neville refereed. Or, of course, they simply played a modified version of Quidditch where not as many players were needed.

That day however, they were going into an entirely new territory – for Harry, anyway. Oliver would be taking them to the Muggle carnival, where they would eat and ride the roller coasters and do other things of the sort. Harry wasn't too sure _exactly_ what they were doing, but the way Oliver talked about it made it sound dreadfully exciting. Oliver himself had been introduced by a muggleborn wizard in his year.

"Is that enough money you have with you?" James asked them. "Are you sure you won't need anymore?"

"Muggle money goes farther, remember," Oliver said, "I'm sure twelve hundred pounds is _more _than enough."

"We have everything we need, Dad," Harry told him impatiently. "Can we go now?"

"Give your old man a hug first," James ordered. Hiding the roll of his eyes, Harry complied quickly before stepping back.

"And Happy Birthday, Harry," James said as though just remembering.

"You already said that," Harry reminded him. "And my birthday is tomorrow."

"Well, it's not every day you turn nine, is it?" James sniffed theatrically. "Can't have you forgetting…and this is your birthday outing…" he trailed off for a moment before looking to the thirteen-year-old next to Harry. "Now, you be very careful," he said sternly. "I'm not too comfortable with this as it is – you've only had two years at Hogwarts, after all…but you should be fine…"

"We _will _be," Harry told James, and hugged him by choice this time. "Don't worry."

xxx

They had fun at the carnival – Harry more fun than he'd had in a while. It was so different – the sights, sounds, even the way they dressed. He'd been in the Muggle world before, of course, but never around so many people all at once. Everyone was shouting to each other and it smelled of popcorn and cotton candy, and there was stranger music playing throughout the area.

They had played games, too. Harry won a stuffed lion that roared when a button on its paw was pressed – "For Gryffindor, of course!", as Oliver said – at a game where he had to shoot down bottles with a toy gun (though he hadn't known what exactly a gun was, and had Oliver explain it to him), although he was pretty positive that Oliver was somehow getting away with using magic so that Harry would win. Harry didn't call him out on it, though – he got a stuffed lion, after all.

Harry ate lots of what Oliver identified as "animal fries", and was glad that Oliver had been in the Muggle world at least a bit, so that they weren't two totally lost boys in the midst of hundreds of Muggles.

Harry liked the Ferris wheel best, because it went the highest. He'd said to Oliver that it was like they were flying, but Oliver had pointed out that if they were flying, they'd be going _much _faster, and there wouldn't be safety bars on their seat. Harry had wanted to climb out of the seat, but when he tried, Oliver had been quick to pull him back down, explaining that the Muggle security would probably kick them out. Harry hadn't been too happy about that, but he went along with it anyway.

It was when they were walking away from an ice cream stand around dusk that it happened. There was a loud _bang _in the air, one that Harry thought vaguely sounded like the sound his toy had made at the place he'd won his lion at. But then Oliver had yanked him to the side, out of the pathway where people walked, at the same time that people started screaming and running. It was only a few people at first, but then the hysteria began spreading as the same sound came again.

"Wh-what was that?" Harry asked, growing fearful as the Muggles' emotions affected his own.

Oliver didn't answer, instead pulling on his arm to get him away. They began running, and Harry wished that he or Oliver knew how to apparate, but neither of them was old enough. The sound rang out again, and Harry saw a woman ahead of him fall suddenly to the ground, blood spurting from a wound on her back. The screams around him grew louder, and Harry's heart pounded faster as the woman didn't get back up. He began running faster beside Oliver, trying to get farther away from whoever or whatever was hurting people.

Then Oliver suddenly jerked him away from the crowd, and they moved toward one of the roller coasters.

"Come on – go inside," Oliver said quickly as they approached the deserted entrance. "Just walk along the tracks, now – they won't be able to find us in here."

Harry obeyed without a word, walking through the entrance into the darkened interior. His heart pounded loudly, and he felt a sick feeling in his gut at the continued screams.

"W…We should try and help them," Harry finally got out, looking back at Oliver. He was just able to make out his silhouette against the entrance as the older boy followed behind him.

"We can't do anything, Harry," Oliver said with a strained voice, probably from fear and worry. "We're just a couple of kids, and you don't even have a wand."

"But we're Gryffindors!" Harry protested, not bothering with the fact that he still had two years before he would actually be Sorted and know for sure if he _would_, in fact, be in Gryffindor's House. "We're supposed to be brave!"

"There's a difference between being brave and being rash, Harry," Oliver said in a voice that left no room for argument. "Going out there would only get us hurt or killed."

"What is it that's hurting people?" Harry asked finally.

"Other people," Oliver said shortly. "But even Muggles have their inventions that make up creative ways of injuring people. These Muggles are using guns."

"What's a gun?"

"It looks like what you used to hit the targets at the place you won your lion at." Oliver explained. "But _real _guns have bullets, which are little pieces of metal with a sharp point on the end. When the trigger is pulled on the guns, the bullets shoot out and hit whatever has been aimed at. Today, the Muggle is aiming at people, and the bullets could kill them."

"Can't magic stop it, though?" Harry pressed.

"Sometimes – if the witch or wizard's reaction is quick enough. But bullets move faster than spells, and you can't see them coming."

Harry fell silent, walking further along the tracks, but mentally he was thinking that he and Oliver should be able to do _something _to help, rather than hiding out like a couple of Hufflepuffs. But Oliver was the older one here, and he'd promised his dad and Sirius that he would do what Oliver said.

But that didn't mean he had to like it.

xxx

Sirius was surprised when he heard the Floo go off a couple of hours earlier than expected for when Oliver and Harry were supposed to come back home. He wondered why they were home so early, and went to the living room to find out.

They seemed to be unharmed, though a bit fidgety, so he wondered if they had done something they weren't supposed to do. But then he saw the fearful sort of nervousness in both boys' eyes, and it was different than if they'd disobeyed.

"What's wrong, boys?" he asked them, dread forming in the pit of his stomach. "Did something happen? Why are you home early?"

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, looking away from him and to Harry. Harry saw his gaze and gave him a look as though to say, _Don't look at me – __**you **__can do the explaining._

"Oliver?" Sirius questioned when he didn't get an immediate response. "Harry?"

"Mr. Black," Oliver started hesitantly, finally looking at Sirius. "Have you ever heard of a Muggle weapon called a gun before?"

Sirius' face drained of color. This could _not _be good.

xxx

As soon as Oliver finished his explanation, with the occasional input from Harry, Sirius grabbed both boys into a hug.

"Thank _Merlin_ you guys are okay!" he exclaimed, before pulling back to look at Oliver in the eye.

"_Thank you_ for keeping Harry safe," he said fervently, and Oliver flushed slightly at the praise. Then Sirius looked at Harry. "And thank _you_ for listening to Oliver, even when you hated it. He knew what was best in the situation, and you were very smart for doing what he said. …I don't know _what_ I would do without you two." He saw the look on Oliver's face and added, "Yes – you too, Oliver. You're as much a part of this family as Harry is by now."

"Are you going to tell Dad what happened?" Harry asked him a bit nervously, thinking of what James' reaction would be if he found out what had happened.

Sirius chuckled slightly, though his eyes were still lined with worry and his posture still a bit tense. "Are you kidding me? He'd have an aneurysm if he found out!" Harry and Oliver couldn't help but smile at Sirius' description of what James' reaction would be, as it sounded so like the man.

Sirius let his smile grow a bit as he said, "Let's keep this under wraps for a bit…at least for another month."

* * *

James stormed from the Floo fireplace, too angry for words. Sirius looked up from the couch, and raised a single eyebrow in calm question.

"What's up, Prongs?" he drawled, tossing the _Daily Prophet _onto the coffee table in front of him.

"I-am-going-to-kill-those-fucking-bastards!" James fumed, words coming together almost rhythmically in his anger. "I am going to hex him so strong that – "

"First tell me who and why so that I can figure out where I stand on this," Sirius interrupted calmly, rising to his feet and pushing on James' chest to sit him down on the couch. James reluctantly fell into the couch, still fuming, and Sirius sat down next to him.

"Okay, firstly, _who_?" Sirius said, gazing at James' livid expression.

"The _Daily Prophet _reporters, editors, and their entire bloody staff!" James answered, scowling.

Sirius crinkled his eyebrows in confusion. "What'd they do this time?"

James stared at him. "Don't tell me you haven't seen the page three special," he said sardonically.

Sirius shook his head. "I only just picked it up and you know that I always read the comics first and then finish the crossword and then look at the Quid…"

With a frustrated huff, James grabbed the newspaper still sitting on the coffee table and yanked it to page three, shoving it at Sirius. Sirius took it a bit more calmly and looked down at what James was so pissed off about.

Taking up half of the page were various pictures of James, Sirius, and Harry all out together. It was clear that they expanded over many months, as one of the pictures was of the three of them out on Harry's tenth birthday, and another was of just three days before. Sirius quickly looked down at the accompanying article as the pictures didn't seem to be an issue.

**POTTER AND BLACK: LOVERS?**

**By Rita Skeeter**

_Most of us know of the long-standing feud between the Potter and Black families, but when James Potter and Sirius Black became best friends in their Hogwarts years, it was safe to say that the feud had ended. But it also begs the question: how __did__ they turn out to be so close? Perhaps they were close in a way that no one had anticipated._

_It came out soon after the fateful Halloween of 1981 that Sirius Black and his other best friend Remus Lupin had been lovers since their sixth year of Hogwarts. Later it was made known that Lupin was also a werewolf, and had been from his childhood. We all know of the dangers that werewolves pose, but after Lupin sacrificed his life for Lily Evans and her son Harry Potter, one was left to doubt at the evilness of __all__ werewolves. Some students in Lupin's graduating class remember him as being a "shy, quiet sort of fellow", although one witch said that "he was always off playing pranks with Black and Potter, but his innocent-looking expression always got him off the hook when they got in trouble." He may have been kind at face value, but clearly he was hiding something beneath all of that. Who can say for sure what that was, though? In any case, Sirius Black seemed to have opened him up in more ways than one – but what was the story behind __that__? Even the fact that his lover was a werewolf should show that perhaps he doesn't have the best judgment when it comes to men…_

_But then these incriminating photos were taken while the two were out with their son/godson, and it seems that Black has forgotten about Lupin, and James Potter about Lily Evans, and gone after each other. They certainly seem to love touching each other, as seen by the way Black speaks close to James Potter's ear…and then Potter laughs and turns a comely shade of pink._

_But when people who knew James or Lily at Hogwarts were asked, it was said that James would never go for anyone other than Lily Evans, and was devoted to her from his first day of school. One of Lily's close friends who prefers not to be named said that Lily would always tell of how she was asked on a date every day since their fourth year by Potter. When another classmate was questioned, he said that the day that Lily said yes to a date, Potter looked the happiest he'd ever seen him – even more than when he won a Quidditch game, and that was saying something. He laughingly describes that over the course of the day after Evans accepted, Potter was assigned seventeen detentions for daydreaming during class. _

_So that begs the question: how did Sirius Black manage to coerce James Potter into a relationship? Some suggest blackmail, others a love potion, and one even suggested that Potter never really loved Evans but it was a front the whole time and he was in a relationship with both Black __and__ Lupin. Perhaps our child hero, Harry Potter, should watch out from his guardians – who knows what they could be up to?_

Sirius slowly lowered the paper from his line of vision, and gazed at James with a deathly calm expression.

"We should find this Rita Skeeter woman," he told James, setting down the paper with deliberate calmness. "And any sort of trash on her to expose." His face was gradually changing to show the anger boiling inside of him. "And I 'opened him up in more ways than one'?! What's _that _supposed to mean? _I _was the 'taker', thank you very much!"

"Need to know basis, Padfoot," James reminded him, shaking his head at Sirius' blunt talk of his past sex life with his other best friend.

Sirius acted like he hadn't heard him. "We need to ruin her reputation, and slam her whenever possible, because _this _bitch should_ **not** **be trashing Remus and Lily like this**!_"

"And _you_!" James retorted. "This is like a slam on you personally! Where do they even come up with this bullshit?!"

"You said a bad word!"

They both suddenly looked to the doorway, where Harry stood with a handful of jelly beans in his hand. He looked accusingly at them both.

"You need to put a sickle in the swear jar, or have soap in your mouth for two minutes!" he proclaimed, popping a jelly bean into his mouth. Then he paused, looking at their angry faces.

"What's wrong?" he asked, immediately concerned. He rarely ever saw both of his "parents" angry at the same time.

"Nothing you need to worry about, puppy," Sirius told him, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before rubbing his eyes with both hands.

But Harry was far more observant than James and Sirius gave him credit for. His eyes caught the newspaper and he sighed.

"You saw something in there you didn't like, didn't you?" he asked in what seemed to be a resigned voice as he walked over. "Well, you're supposed to let _me _have it first, anyway!"

Sirius looked up at Harry somewhat confusedly. "What? Why? Since when has _that _been a rule?"

Harry didn't answer for a moment, going through the first couple of pages of the newspaper to see what must've bothered his parents. When he got to page 3, he pulled the page out and crumpled it up, saying:

"I've always taken the paper for the past couple of years so that I can pull out the pages that would make you guys mad or sad before _you _get it." He explained, shoving the crumpled page into his pocket and choosing another jelly bean from his handful.

"What? Why?" James asked, amazed at his son's intelligence and somehow sad at the same time. "I mean…what made you think that…?"

"I remember when I was younger and you'd always see the articles from Halloween about Mum and get sad, or you'd get angry when there was one about me, and I thought it'd be better if you didn't know that it was there." He shrugged, as though it was no big deal, and then grimaced as he bit into a salt-flavored jelly bean. "You guys never noticed, 'cause you don't look at the page numbers to see that there's a couple missing."

"Harry," Sirius sighed. "We're grown men – we _can _handle this. You're only ten – you shouldn't have to."

Harry frowned. "I'll be eleven in twenty-three days," he reminded him.

"Still," James said gently, "We're your parents – we should be protecting _you _– not the other way around. Don't these articles make _you _upset?"

"Sometimes," Harry admitted. "But I don't think I'm as sad as you guys are, 'cause I don't _remember _my mum, so I don't know what I'm missing. And I've always grown up with people staring and pointing at me. Just 'cause it's written down doesn't change the number of people thinking and talking about me."

Sirius and James looked at each other, wondering when the child got so wise.

"Well, let _us _deal with it, alright?" James said, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders. "It's okay for us to see these things."

Harry looked at both of them before sighing. "Alright," he agreed.

"Now," Sirius said, rubbing his hands together. "How are we going to get this Skeeter woman back?"

Harry's face lit up with an evil grin. "Actually, I've been doing a bit of research on her…I have the _perfect_ idea."

* * *

"It's not coming today, Harry. It's not coming at _all_."

"Shut up, Oliver."

"I don't know why you're so hopeful. Squibs don't get acceptance letters to a _magical_ school."

"Shut _up_, Oliver!"

"I only speak the truth. Hogwarts only accepts people with magic, and well…let's just say you're a bit _lacking _in that department."

"Bugger _off_!"

Harry was getting frustrated with Oliver's incessant teasing. For the past week, he would tease Harry whenever he came over that he wasn't going to get accepted into Hogwarts, because he was a Squib. Harry knew that it wasn't true – he remembered several bouts of accidental magic, especially the time when he was four and had completely destroyed his bedroom – _in his sleep_. Still though, Oliver's teasing was getting old and annoying, and nothing he said would stop him. Even though Oliver didn't really mean it, he'd been getting more bossy and annoying as he got older, and right now, before his fifth year at Hogwarts, he was just unbearable.

He was saved from a brawl though, when James came sauntering into the room, having heard the last bit of their conversation.

"Language, Harry," James scolded lightly. "Oliver, stop teasing him. You know that once he gets his wand he'll be able to knock you flat in seconds, so I'd be _extra_ nice to him if I were you." Oliver smirked at the good-natured ribbing from his surrogate uncle, but didn't say anything.

"Plus, I could poison you right _now _if I wanted," Harry proclaimed. "All I've gotta do is call one of my little snake friends and you could be out of my hair for the rest of my life."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Yes, I remember – you only remind me of your Parselmouth abilities about every other _day _now. And don't think I've forgotten that you set the boa constrictor on me at the zoo last month."

Harry flushed with embarrassment. "That was unintentional!" he protested. "You were being mean to me again. And he didn't even hurt you – he just slithered on by and made you wet your pants."

"I did not!" Oliver protested. "Some fat kid behind me spilled his drink on me when he was trying to get away from your friend!"

"Alright, boys, let's calm down now," Sirius said, walking into the room. "No need to bring The Wrath of Boys upon us."

"It's already six-thirty, though," Oliver pointed out. "Your owl should've gotten here by now, Harry – it _is _your eleventh birthday, and Neville got _his_ yesterday."

"Maybe it's a stupid owl," Sirius offered, sprawling himself down on the couch. "I had a stupid owl deliver _my _Hogwarts letter – have I ever told you guys that?" Both boys shook their heads.

"_No_?!" Sirius exclaimed, immediately sitting up. "Well, this calls for story time!"

Twenty minutes later, Harry, Oliver, and even James, who'd heard the story plenty of times, were laughing with tears streaming from their eyes as they clutched at their stomachs. They didn't notice the owl pecking at the window to be let in until it had scratched at it for almost a solid minute. Harry jumped up and threw the window open, and the barn owl came soaring in. With shaking hands, Harry untied the letter to see his name and address printed on it, detailed all the way down to "_in the living room_".

After the owl had flown off (after clipping Sirius' ear with its beak), the other three crowded around Harry as he fumbled to open his letter. He took out the first piece of parchment and read aloud:

"Dear Mr. Potter, we are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

He got no farther, for he was suddenly swooped up into the air by an ecstatic James, and was spun around once before being set back on his feet again.

"My little boy is going to Hogwarts!" he exclaimed proudly, ruffling a grinning Harry's hair as Sirius snapped a picture of the moment on the camera in his hands. "Can you _believe_ it, Padfoot? Harry's going to Hogwarts!"

* * *

**Finally! Harry is going off to school! Thanks for enduring through the first background chapters with me before he starts his first year – from now on it will pretty much follow the first book…with a few changes, of course. ;p Any advice/reviews are always appreciated, and I shall see you guys soon! :)**


	5. Chapter 4

**Yes! I got this up in a week! I was supes excited about it, so I was just cranking it out, and then it was really the editing and adding of details that took up the majority of the time. ;p Hope you guys love it as much as I loved writing it!**

* * *

Harry woke up at five o' clock on September first, and was too excited and jittery to go back to sleep. He stayed in bed staring up at his ceiling for several minutes, then checked and re-checked that he had everything packed into his trunk, even though he knew that both James and Sirius had checked it last night as well. He dressed himself in some Muggle clothes – jeans and a T-shirt advertising some brand of soda – and then sat on the edge of his bed, kicking his feet impatiently as he watched his Muggle alarm clock for it to turn seven-thirty, when James and Sirius said he could get up and start making noise. They valued their sleep, and seven-thirty might as well have been the "butt crack of dawn", as Oliver said, for how awake they were.

But, when the clock finally turned to seven-thirty and Harry made his way downstairs, he saw James and Sirius both already up and awake and ready to go, with breakfast sitting on the table for Harry.

"You should've told me that you guys were up!" Harry said accusingly. "I've been watching my clock for fifty-two minutes for it to finally turn to seven-thirty, and now I see I could've gotten up _sooner_?!"

"Sorry, Puppy," Sirius said offhandedly, largely unaffected by Harry's half-serious-half-joking annoyance.

"But we _do _have a present for you, Snitchy!" James proclaimed, seeing the reproachful look on Harry's face.

Immediately Harry's expression cleared and changed to one of excitement. "What is it?" he asked.

Sirius brought out a covered cage from underneath the table, and waved his wand to release the _silencio _spell he'd placed over it. Lifting the cloth from the cage, he said, "Ta-da!" at the same time that the snowy white owl inside let out a loud screech of indignation.

Harry's face broke into a grin. "That's for _me_?!" he exclaimed. He'd thought he wasn't getting a pet this year, as when they'd gone to Diagon Alley a couple of weeks before, they had walked right by the pet shop without comment. Now he was looking at the most beautiful owl he'd ever seen.

"Of course," James laughed. "We _were _going to get her for you when we went to Diagon Alley, but when I went back alone to look at her, the owner of the shop said that she was sick, and I could come back in a couple of weeks after she'd gotten better. So…here's a couple of weeks later." He grinned.

Harry reached out to stroke the owl's belly, and she gave a small noise of contentment and nipped his finger lightly in affection.

"She likes you," Sirius observed with a fond smile.

"Of course she does," James said. "It's _Harry_."

Harry ignored them and opened up the cage, putting out his arm to allow her to hop on. She did so gracefully, not even scratching Harry. He pet the spot between her eyes with a smile.

"What sounds like a good name to you?" he asked her, and she stared at him with her amber-colored eyes, cocking her head to the side as though to say, _What do you suggest?_ Harry thought for a moment, tapping his chin.

"How about…Hedwig?" the snowy owl hooted and nipped his finger. "Yeah? You like that?" the owl hooted again. "Alright – Hedwig it is!"

* * *

Harry pushed his trolley through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾, James and Sirius following right behind him.

The first thing he saw was the Hogwarts Express. He couldn't help but grin at the sight of it, even as he felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. He was _really _going to Hogwarts.

Then he saw Neville with his parents and brother, though they hadn't noticed him yet.

"Neville!" Harry shouted over the din of the crowd there. Neville hadn't heard him, but several others did, and turned to look at him. He ignored their stares and comments – "That's Harry Potter!" – and walked forward, pushing the trolley as he called again, "_Neville_!"

Neville turned, hearing his name called, and grinned at the sight of his best friend. His British Shorthair cat, Trevor, was clutched in his arms, and grey fur was sticking to his robes. Nevertheless, the cat looked quite content in Neville's grasp, and even looked a bit sleepy.

"Hiya, Harry!" he greeted enthusiastically, cutting off whatever Nate had been saying. "When did you get here?"

"Just now," Harry said. "Dad and Sirius kept trying to stuff me with food before we left, so it took a while."

"Same here," Neville said with a playful scowl. "I'm pretty sure Mum is trying to make me as fat as your Muggle cousin – what was his name? The one you call a 'pig in a wig'."

"Dudley," Harry informed him. "And he _is_ a pig in a wig. I saw him at the Muggle zoo a couple of months ago, and he was eating animal fries _literally _how a pig slops through their food. It was gross!"

"I know – you told me already," Neville said, though he still grimaced at Harry's reminder as Nate giggled.

As Neville and Harry continued to gossip for a few minutes more with Nate listening and adding his own mostly ignored input, Sirius and James began speaking with Frank and Alice. The train whistle blew a warning of ten minutes, and Harry and Neville were both pulled away by their respective parents to say their goodbyes.

Harry saw James trying to hide the tears in his eyes, and even Sirius was purposefully brisk in order to keep his own emotions at bay. He didn't say anything about it, only hugged them both.

"I'll write you guys all the time," Harry tried to reassure them. "You don't need to worry about me."

"Of course not, Snitchy," James said with a proud and somewhat sad smile. "You're growing up, after all...still, you're _always _gonna be our little Prongslet."

"And _my _little Puppy," Sirius added. "And don't you forget it."

"I won't," Harry said with a slightly embarrassed smile, hoping no one had heard. "I'll make sure I go into Gryffindor," he continued. "I'll make you proud."

"We'll be proud of you no matter _what _house you're Sorted into." James said firmly. "So you just be yourself and go where you belong."

A few feet away, a soon-to-be-first-year overheard what James had said, and turned his head to look at him with a mixture of longing and disgust in his eyes, as though he wasn't sure which emotion to focus on. His grey eyes watched the group, and he immediately recognized who they were. He'd seen them in the _Daily Prophet _enough times to recognize James and Harry Potter and Sirius Black.

"Now, don't let me down; be sure you get Sorted into Slytherin," he heard his father's voice behind him, felt his heavy hand on his shoulder. "I don't want you consorting with any _mudbloods_, do you hear me?" He said "mudbloods" with extreme and obvious disgust.

He pulled his Slytherin mask into place and turned his head back to look at his father's grey eyes, identical to his own. "Yes, Father. I won't let you down."

"See that you don't," the man said firmly, and nodded once in farewell before walking away with a sweep of his robes.

Draco Malfoy turned back to the train, a pureblooded sneer on his face. He _would _get into Slytherin. He _had _to. Harry Potter may have a perfect father who would be proud of him no matter what, but Draco didn't have that luxury. He would be Sorted into Slytherin – he would make sure of it.

* * *

Harry sat in the train compartment, chatting with Neville, the only other occupant of the car. The train had departed a few minutes ago, and so far it looked like no one was going to join them, though there were still several students walking around in the corridor. Even so, they both sat on the same bench, though Harry leaned against the window while Neville leaned against the armrest by the door as they chatted. Twins who had introduced themselves as Fred and George Weasley had just left, saying something about a tarantula. Although Harry felt that they had only introduced themselves because they recognized him as Harry Potter, it seemed to be more because they wanted to take him under their wings, as the saying went, rather than gaining popularity because of being seen with him. He didn't mind – they seemed like fun fellows, sort of reminding him of James and Sirius.

Then, a redheaded boy about their age with a smudge of dirt on his long nose opened the door to the compartment. He peered at them shyly, and Harry thought that he looked a bit like the Weasley boys he'd just met.

"Hey," the boy said, "Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

Harry doubted that – there were still many students milling about and surely _all _of them weren't expected to go without seats for the whole ride – but he didn't say anything about it. The boy probably just wanted to sit with a couple of boys his own age, and they _did _have room.

"Sure," he said, waving his hand at the bench opposite them. "Have a seat."

The boy looked relieved, as though he had been expecting to get kicked out, and turned to pull his trunk inside. When the boy turned his back, Harry checked to make sure that his scar was covered, hoping that he could make a friend because he was Harry, and not the Boy-Who-Lived. Neville gave him a questioning look, seeing the action, but Harry just shook his head as Ron turned around, pushing his trunk inside.

"My name's Ronald Weasley," he said, unknowingly confirming Harry's thoughts. He sat down on the bench and put out a hand for either of them to shake. "Everyone calls me Ron, though."

"Neville," Neville said, pausing his petting of Trevor to shake Ron's hand.

"Harry," Harry said, and shook Ron's hand.

"What House do you think you'll get Sorted into?" Ron asked, trying to start a conversation.

Neville shrugged. "Probably Gryffindor – it's where my parents went. My grandma was in Hufflepuff, though, so maybe I'll go there."

"Me too!" Ron said. "About Gryffindor, I mean. My whole family's been in Gryffindor, and I'm sure I'm gonna go there, too." He looked at Harry. "Where do you suppose you'll go?"

Harry shrugged, but before he could say anything, the door to the compartment slid open again and another boy with white-blond hair peeked in. He glanced over the three of them, sneered at Ron's hand-me-down robes, and looked approvingly at Harry and Neville. Apparently two out of three was all that was needed for him to deem them worthy, for he walked in without a word and sat down with a dignified air on the bench Ron sat on, though he scooted as far from Ron as the seat would allow.

Ron was looking at him with the same judgment that the boy had given him just a moment ago, and scooted farther away from Draco.

"You're a _Malfoy_," he said in a voice that was almost accusing.

"And you're a _Weasley_," the boy sniffed. "Your point being what?"

Harry was sure that there would be an argument if they were allowed to continue, so he quickly jumped in. "I'm Harry," he said to the blond boy, and then jerked a thumb at Neville. "This is my best friend, Neville."

The boy nodded at them with a much more approving look than the one he'd given Ron. "Draco," he informed them. "Draco Malfoy."

Harry suddenly remembered where he'd heard his name. "Your mum and my godfather are cousins," he realized. Draco simply nodded in acknowledgement, not saying anything.

"You guys are _related_?" Ron said confusedly. "You don't look _anything _alike, though!"

Draco sneered at him. "We're not related by _blood_, Weaselby. Your godfather doesn't have to be related to you, and is usually a best friend of one of your parents. That's how it is with him – didn't you know Sirius Black is best friends with his dad?"

"That means you're…you're Harry _Potter_!" Ron gaped at him in surprise as he finally connected the dots.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Who did you _think _he was?" he said sarcastically. "Harry Morgan?"

Harry sighed as their arguing continued, and shared a look with Neville.

"Do you think I'm going to go to Slytherin?" he asked them in a quieter tone than Ron was currently using.

"Why?" Neville was confused at how Harry could've reached this conclusion, but he didn't know that Harry had been thinking about it a lot lately.

"Well, I know that Dad and Mum and everyone has been in Gryffindor," Harry explained, chewing on his bottom lip, "But what about…well, I know Dad and Sirius were pretty adamant that Parselmouths don't _have _to go to Slytherin, but that's what Slytherin looked for, wasn't it? What if, because I _can _speak to snakes, I go into Slytherin?"

"You're a _Parselmouth_?"

Harry and Neville looked up at Draco and Ron's simultaneous exclamations of surprise. Neville looked at Harry, not knowing what to say, and Harry seemed to be fumbling for what to say.

"Well – you see – I – when I – they – "

"You can, can't you?" Draco demanded, and he smiled for the first time in their presence. He didn't seem to be judgmental or fearful, not like Harry had expected after James and Sirius' explanations of why he probably shouldn't go spreading that around. Even Ron seemed to be awed.

"That's wicked," Ron breathed.

"You're going to go to Slytherin for sure," Draco informed him. "We'll be in the same dorm too!"

"Of course_ you'd_ go to Slytherin," Ron muttered.

Draco scowled and turned to look at him. "You got a problem with that, Weaselby? I don't need to wait till the Sorting to know that you'll be in Gryffindor, seeing as you go more for the brawn than the brains."

"Hey!" Neville protested, but Harry talked over him.

"Why d'you want to go to Slytherin?" he asked diplomatically. "Is it better than Gryffindor?"

Draco stared at him. "Of _course _it's better," he said as though it was obvious. "Professor Snape is the Head of Slytherin, and he's the youngest Potions Master in history. Who _wouldn't _want to have him as your mentor?"

"Isn't he _your_ godfather?" Neville wondered, but Harry went on before Draco could answer.

"But what about the actual Slytherin _House_?" he asked. "What's great about it? What makes it better than the others?"

Draco sniffed, but answered, "_Slytherin_ values cunning and ambition, and we actually have _career ambitions_ for the future."

"What about all the Dark Wizards who came from Slytherin?" Ron suggested snidely. "Expecting to be one of those?"

"What about all the Dark Wizards who came from _other _Houses?" Draco sneered back. "Peter Pettigrew certainly wasn't brave when he defected to the Dark Lord's side."

Harry and Neville's expressions darkened at the mention of the one that they hated even more than Voldemort, but Harry still said, "Draco's right – not all Slytherins are bad or even prejudiced about blood purity. My godfather's brother defected to the Light side in the War, and my godfather's friend married a muggleborn and got disowned from her family. And any of the traits from the other Houses can be used for bad, too. Grindelwald and Voldemort"—Ron and Draco both flinched a little at the name, but said nothing—"are the reasons that everyone is so prejudiced about Slytherin, because they're the most well-known Dark Wizards of the twentieth century.

"So, where do you _want _to go, then?" Draco asked him.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly and leaned back in the seat. "I think I like Hufflepuff," he said casually, and laughed at the stunned looks he was given. "I'm kidding," he assured them. "I would like to be in Gryffindor, but I suppose Slytherin wouldn't be too bad either. But Professor Snape will probably hate me, so perhaps Gryffindor would be the wisest choice."

"Why would Professor Snape hate you?" Draco asked, honestly confused.

Harry shrugged again and said offhandedly, "Oh, I don't know…maybe because my dad and his group of friends were sort-of enemies throughout their school years and I'm a carbon copy of him? He might be bitter about it still…just a guess, though."

"That sucks," Draco said. Harry nodded in agreement.

"I know," he said. "That's why I'm hoping that I can show him that I'm not _them_ early on. Don't get me wrong - I love 'em to death, but I'm really more like my mother, and I know that the two of them were friends, so…" he shrugged, then changed the subject. "I suppose you want to go to Slytherin, then?"

"It's where my father expects me to go," Draco said with a nod.

"But what about where _you _want to go?" Neville questioned. "Isn't that more important?"

"I do my duty without question," Draco said stiffly, though a bit of doubt flickered in his eyes at Neville's words.

"Alright," Harry said in a placating tone. "We won't hold that against you – we can still be friends though, right…even if _we_ all turn out to be Gryffindors?"

"Why would you want to be friends with a _Slytherin_?" Ron demanded.

"Firstly, because it's a very real possibility that _I_ could be in Slytherin too," Harry said a trace more snappishly than he had intended. "And even if I'm not, it's always good to have an insider on another House, especially a House like Slytherin." Then he realized how that sounded and looked at Draco. "Not that I'm using you only for that…"

Draco shook his head. "Your reasoning sounds more like a Slytherin than a Gryffindor," he informed him, but didn't say anything else.

Harry shrugged, but he knew that he was right. He hadn't even meant to be cunning in his explanation, but that was how it had come out, and he still felt that way. …And no matter what his dad and Sirius had said repeatedly since he was six and they'd found out he could talk to snakes, he knew that they would have a bit more difficulty than they were letting on accepting that he was more Slytherin than Gryffindor as to be Sorted into Salazar's House. It's not that he _wanted _to be in Slytherin – in fact, he really, _really _wanted to be in Gryffindor. But by now, he was mostly resigned to his fate. It seemed too fantastic to hope that he would be sorted into the House of his dreams.

_Well, at least I'll have made __**one**__ friend there, _he thought, glancing at Draco. _Even if he is a bit prejudiced…_

Somehow though, the thought didn't comfort him.

* * *

They separated when they got to the boats, and the half-giant named Hagrid directed for four to get in per boat. Draco immediately went to a couple of fat goons and got in with them. Harry and Neville sat with Ron and a muggleborn witch who introduced herself as Hermione Granger. She kept up a practically non-stop chatter as the boats glided across the lake, and Harry couldn't help wishing that she would just shut up. He didn't say anything though, not wanting to be rude.

When they rounded the bend that showed them Hogwarts castle however, she finally fell silent in awe of the majesty of the castle in front of her. Even Harry was amazed at the sight of it, and he'd been _expecting _it.

The silence lasted for only a few seconds though, before she started chattering again. Harry sighed and shared a look with Neville and Ron. Ron shrugged, and Neville rolled his eyes.

They met Minerva McGonagall in the Entrance Hall, and Harry and Neville couldn't help but laugh quietly behind their hands; they'd heard many stories about "Professor Minnie" from James and Sirius, and from what they could see already, it was so true it was hilarious. She shot them both a disapproving look, but didn't say anything as they struggled that much harder to contain their laughter.

They went to the Great Hall, and Harry heard Hermione say something about the ceiling and gazed upward. He almost stopped at the sight of it – it looked like there was simply no ceiling at all, even though he knew that it was bewitched to look like the sky outside.

The Sorting Hat sang his song, and Ron indignantly exclaimed something about Fred and George saying he'd have to wrestle a troll. Harry laughed silently, trying to focus on what Ron was saying, but his stomach was doing flip-flops, and he felt like he was going to throw up the sweets he'd eaten on the train. Perhaps a House should be made for people who were queasy, because he wasn't feeling brave or cunning or smart or loyal at the moment.

He watched, feeling increasingly nervous as people were Sorted into the various Houses. Lavender Brown was the first to get Sorted into Gryffindor, and Millicent Bulstrode was the first into Slytherin. Harry suspected that it was his imagination telling him that the Slytherins looked to be an unpleasant lot. He looked over the Gryffindor table and saw Oliver sitting near the middle, looking at him. The older boy gave him an encouraging grin and a thumbs-up, and Harry didn't think he could feel any worse, but he did. But, Oliver then mouthed _Slytherin for sure! _and Harry began to feel better at the familiarity of the teasing.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Harry turned to Neville to give him a reassuring smile, but Neville didn't seem to need it. He smiled at Harry before striding forward to take his place on the stool. The Hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry clapped along with everyone else as Neville went down to take his seat among the Gryffindors, and Neville grinned at him. Harry turned back around just as a girl walked down to sit among the Ravenclaws, and "Malfoy, Draco!" was called up to be Sorted.

Harry noticed that although Draco walked forward with a swagger in his step, it seemed to be a case of false bravado. Malfoy sat on the stool, and his eyes locked with Harry's for a brief moment before the Hat slipped over his eyes. Harry's gaze went down to Draco's hands, which were white-knuckled as he clutched the chair.

The Hat took a long time to decide, and Harry began to think he was going to be a Hatstall when the Hat finally called out with only twenty-three seconds short of five minutes.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

To Harry, there seemed to be a beat of silence before the Gryffindors exploded in cheering and clapping. Draco remained sitting on the stool even after Professor McGonagall had removed the Hat from his head, a stunned look on his face. After a moment, he seemed to regain his bearings, and a calm mask slipped over his face as he rose to go sit among the Gryffindors.

"I can't believe Draco _Malfoy _is in Gryffindor!" he heard Ron exclaim in his ear over the din. "Wonder what his father'll say to _that_!"

Harry was hardly paying attention to his new friend, caught up in his own thoughts. **_He's _**_a Gryffindor?! That's the last __**I'd**__ suspect…he's as Slytherin as they come! Does that mean that __**I **__could be a Gryffindor too?_

But then again, if a Malfoy could be a Gryffindor, couldn't a Potter be a Slytherin?

He was practically shaking with nerves by the time "Moon", "Nott", "Parkinson", "Patil", "Patil", and "Perks" had been Sorted, and finally McGonagall called his name.

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers began to break out all over the Hall. Harry ignored it, used to it by now, and right before the Hat slipped over his eyes, he saw the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. He felt a flush of annoyance, which the Hat caught.

"No taste for the fame, eh?" a small voice said in his ear.

_Just shut up with the pleasantries and Sort me already, _he thought, clenching his hands so tightly into fists that he could feel his nails biting into his palms.

"Not diplomatic about it, either," the Hat said with a slight chuckle. "Most people would say that rudeness is a Slytherin quality."

Harry thought he could almost feel his heart stop. _No, _was all he was able to think before the Hat went on, "Not true, though. People are prejudiced. Thinking about the founders and their personalities, I'd say that was most like Godric…but what do I know?"

Harry felt relief wash over him. He was more like Gryffindor then.

"You want to be in Gryffindor, then, don't you?" the Hat mused.

_Obviously._

"Yes…yes, there's plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either…and I see a thirst to prove yourself – as Harry Potter, and not these ridiculous titles of the 'Boy-Who-Lived' or 'the Chosen One'. You could be great, you know – as Harry Potter and nothing more. Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that."

**_Not. Slytherin._**

"And what about what your parents told you? Be yourself, and they will be proud of you, no matter what. Don't you think that _I _should know better? I _have_ Sorted thousands of students through the years, after all."

_And you Sorted Peter Pettigrew into __**Gryffindor**__, and that was the __**last **__place he belonged! _Harry thought furiously, beginning to lose his nervousness as he argued with the Hat. _He was cunning and was concerned with his own future – that's definitely more like Slytherin than Gryffindor! If he had been Sorted into Slytherin where he __**belonged**__, he wouldn't have become friends with my dad and Sirius, and my mum and my dad's other best friend would still be __**alive**__ right now! You're just a stupid Hat who happens to be able to read people's minds, but __**you **__make mistakes, too! You're __**not **__all-knowing!_

"I Sorted Peter Pettigrew into Gryffindor because that's where he _asked_ to be placed," the Hat said calmly. "And he may – or may not – have belonged there, but ultimately the one being Sorted makes the decision. Knowing that, are you sure that you _really _belong in Gryffindor, or do you just _believe_ that you do because that's what you grew up believing, with your friends and family coming from Godric's House?"

Harry felt doubt come back to him in a rush, and he wavered, uncertain. _Did _he belong in Slytherin?

"You already know that Slytherin valued Parselmouths, being one himself – that's why the snake is his symbol. Then there's the ambition – you want to prove that you're _more_ than the Boy-Who-Lived. And you're definitely cunning – even when you were a young child you displayed the mental prowess that Slytherin House values. Remember the time with the nifflers? And what about taking the newspapers from your father and godfather so that they wouldn't see them? And let's not forget – "

_You're wrong, _Harry interrupted. _I may have Slytherin qualities, but I'm more like Gryffindor. You're just trying to make me doubt myself, but don't forget about everything that I've done that's more like Gryffindor._

"But is it really Gryffindor? You're thinking of the time at the carnival and the Muggle's weapons, but while you may have _wanted _to help them, you ultimately watched out for _yourself_ and stayed out of it."

_I stayed out of it because Oliver was the one in charge, __**not**__ because I was watching out for myself!_

"Hm…following the rules…not very Gryffindor, don't you think?"

_Gryffindors ignoring the rules is a __**generalization**__. It's not a trait __**looked**__ for – it's just common __**in **__Gryffindors. And people in __**other **__Houses disobey rules, too, just like obeying rules. That's why we have the House point system._

"Was it respect for your guardians that caused you to obey them though, or fear of getting your hide tanned?"

Harry flushed with embarrassment and anger. _That's none of your __**business**__! _he retorted. _That's __**private**__!_

"I'm a Hat that reads minds in order to accurately judge people by consent of everyone in the Wizarding World, including yourself," the Hat said dryly. "That _makes _it my business. However, our conversation is completely private, and I never divulge what I see to _anyone_ – even if the Headmaster himself were to ask what I saw, I could not tell him."

Harry felt only vaguely relieved by this. _Whatever. _

"And then there's the time you told your godfather that you were going to your friend Neville Longbottom's house, and Longbottom said that he was going to _your_ house, and you both went off to Oliver Wood's house and you all snuck away to go play at the lake with some Muggles." The Hat went on with its original argument.

_You seem to forget that that happened to Oliver and Neville too, and they're __**both **__sitting in Gryffindor. _

"And then there's the trip on the train," the Hat continued, ignoring Harry's last comment. "Perhaps you didn't realize it at the time, but you manipulated your words enough with the Malfoy boy that he was convinced to go to Gryffindor, where _he _belonged. Manipulation, cunning, ambition…how many more Slytherin qualities that you possess do you want me to list off for you?"

_On that same train ride, I was chivalrous when toning down the argument between Draco and Ron. And there's a difference between being brave and being rash. If I'd gone after the Muggle, it would've been rash, because I couldn't have even done anything. The fact that if I could've, I would've was brave. And I showed __**determination**__ in taking those newspapers – I was determined not to make Dad and Sirius upset. And I think the trip to Oliver's was pretty __**daring**__ – especially 'cause I knew that Sirius was eventually going to find out and I'd get walloped for it._

"That wasn't daring – that was stupid."

_See! Gryffindor qualities._

"If stupidity was a Gryffindor quality, the only two Houses at Hogwarts would be Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."

_Stop it with this pointless arguing, dammit, and just put me in Gryffindor! I swear to __**Merlin**__, if you make me a Hatstall because of your stupid debate, I'm going to reduce you to a pile of ash!_

The Hat chuckled again, causing Harry to grind his teeth in anger.

"You've already been up here for five minutes and fourteen seconds, Mr. Potter," the Hat informed him. "You're already a…'Hatstall'."

Harry's mouth dropped open, and then clenched shut again. _I don't even care anymore, _he thought angrily. _Just put me wherever I would like it best._

"And it's exactly that rashness that causes me to have to place you in…GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry was hardly aware of the thunderous applause as Professor McGonagall finally lifted the Hat from his head, caught up in his annoyance as he was. He realized what the Hat had done – he had annoyed him to the point that in a moment of anger, he said he didn't care anymore, even though he really, honestly did. And it was that Gryffindor-like reaction at the end that had caused the Hat to Sort him into the House he wanted.

_Bloody stupid Hat... _he grumbled as he turned to McGonagall.

"That Hat is lonely," he informed her with a straight face. "You should make sure that it gets more human interaction or it's going to drive future first years mad."

Then, ignoring the surprised looks from McGonagall and the other people who had heard at the staff table, he walked down the steps to take his place at the Gryffindor table.

* * *

**Yes! Anyone else love that? I toyed for a while with putting Draco into Gryffindor, and decided - why the heck not? (Mostly 'cause there's the parallel with Sirius and Draco, and now there will be the parallel of the foursome of Gryffindors all best friends...) So, I hope some of you weren't too disappointed with that. And Harry, well...I always planned on putting him in Gryffindor. ;p Not only because it was part of the requirements in FredNeverDied's plot, but because I like Harry in Gryffindor best, with all of the Gryffindor peeps. ;)**

**Questions, comments, diatribes? Let me know!**


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